


Mise en Place

by tarthiana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gourmet Cooking, Mentor/Protégé, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 23:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 38,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarthiana/pseuds/tarthiana
Summary: “You do know who I am, don’t you? You know this is Le Lion D’or, the most sought-after gourmet restaurant in King’s Landing? People beg to get in here! We have a wait list that is more than two years out! And you think that you can work here with no training, no skills?”Jaime Lannister is in need of a pastry chef. Brienne Tarth is in need of a job.





	1. Gâteau St. Honoré

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written anything in years, but I was "inspired" by the last season of GoT.
> 
> I'm not a chef, just a lover of food. So this fic isn't going to be 100% accurate about the way gourmet restaurants operate or French cooking/pastry technique. It's for fun. Enjoy~
> 
> Illustration by ayofandomthings.

Those who truly knew Brienne Tarth – and only very few did – knew that she was a croissant.

From the outside, Brienne Tarth was no-nonsense woman with an unfortunate face and a towering height well over six feet. Large, ugly, serious, hard, humorless – all adjectives commonly used to describe her. She had big hands, much larger than any 24-year-old woman should have, and freckles that dusted every inch of her skin. Wide set shoulders, narrow hips and muscular arms gave her a masculine frame, but her sapphire eyes and full lips gave Brienne an unmistakably feminine face.

An introspective view would reveal that Brienne’s heart was as soft as whipped honey butter. She loved stories of gallant knights and fair maidens, of courtly favors and sweet kisses. Her affections were not easily won, but if someone was able to peel back her sharp exterior they would find a loyal friend.

Her extraordinary appearance made her used to whispered insults and cruel looks, so when Jaime Lannister gave her the once over, her composure did not falter.

“Is that a woman?” he asked with a laugh.

Brienne ignored Jaime and instead addressed the man next to him. “I have an interview for the pastry chef position. I’m Brienne Tarth.”

“Ah yes,” he said. “Renly spoke very highly of you.”

She reached down to shake the dwarf’s hand. “Tyrion Lannister,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.” She gave a curt nod.

“Now if my brother is done being rude he can show you the kitchen. Take as much time as you need to create a dish. The pantry should be fully stocked. I have wine cataloging to do, so Jaime will be handling most of the interview.”

Brienne nodded again and turned toward Jaime with a thinly-veiled look of disdain. He smirked.

“Follow me then.”

Jaime led Brienne through the elaborate parlor and dining room of Le Lion D’or into the kitchen. To say that Le Lion D’or was lavish was a foolish understatement. Rich red and gold silks adorned the social parlor along with the finest upholstered furniture and art nouveau paintings in golden frames. At night, candelabras lit the parlor and hallways, while a massive Swarovski crystal chandelier graced the formal dining room. Everything was beautiful and horribly expensive. It was as if the Lannisters had stolen a piece of Versailles and placed it in King’s Landing.

“What school did you attend,” he asked.

“Dragonstone University,” she answered.

“No, what culinary school did you go to?”

“I didn’t.”

Jaime’s eyes grew wide. It was as if she told him she had two heads and three tits with the way he stared at her.

“Do you have any training? Any experience at all?”

“I’m self taught mostly, unless you count YouTube,” Brienne said evenly.

Jaime’s shock was quickly replaced by laughter.

“You do know who I am, don’t you? You know this is Le Lion D’or, the most sought-after gourmet restaurant in King’s Landing? People beg to get in here! We have a wait list that is more than two years out! And you think that you can work here with no training, no skills?”

Yes, Brienne knew who Jaime Lannister was. It was a safe bet to say that everyone in Westeros knew who Jaime Lannister was. He was the golden heir of Tywin Lannister, an impossibly rich man whose Casterly company influenced a sizable portion of the Westerosi economy. With shining blonde hair, fit figure and emerald eyes, Jaime was obscenely handsome, and he knew it.

But Jaime Lannister was more than his looks and his family’s wealth; he was a bona fide celebrity chef. He was known in high society circles as Tywin’s son, but Jaime became a household name when he beat Aerys Targaryen – known simply as The King – on the televised gourmet competition show _Chef de Fer_. Some say his victory was won through ingenuity, but most say it was through sabotage.

Jaime’s laughter caused Brienne to drop all pretense of politeness. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“All my life men like you've sneered at me, and all my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust,” Brienne huffed as she pushed past Jaime.

“There are no men like me,” he smirked. “Only me.”

A disgusted sigh came from Brienne. “If you really think I have no skill then eat my cooking and prove your point.”

“You’re quite the tart, Tarth. I suppose there is no harm in letting you fail for my entertainment. I’ll be in the dining room planning this week’s menu.” With that, Jaime unceremoniously left Brienne alone to bake.

A fire fueled Brienne like never before. She would prove this arrogant man – every, arrogant man – wrong. He would eat his words along with her cake.

Brienne gathered her ingredients and laid them out on the counter space in front of her. She listed them off: butter, water, granulated sugar, salt, flour, eggs, milk, vanilla bean paste, cornstarch, heavy whipping cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract.

Brienne set the over to preheat at 425 degrees Fahrenheit and grabbed a medium sauce pan. She warmed the butter, water, sugar, and salt over medium heat. When the butter melted into a smooth liquid, she removed the pan. Then, she added a half cup of flour and turned the burner to a low heat. The newly formed dough was a pleasant beige color. Next were the eggs. Taking the pan off the heat again, she cracked one egg and mixed it into the dough. Her strong arms easily incorporated the egg into the dough. Then she added another and stirred that into the mixture. The pâte à choux was complete.

Taking flour, salt, butter and ice water, Brienne made puff pastry. She cut a seven inch circle out of it and placed it on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Stuffing the pâte à choux into a pastry bag, Brienne piped the dough along the puff pastry in one continuous, precise movement. She then made small mounds of dough next to the puff pastry.

The baking sheet went into the oven. While the puff pastry base and puffs were cooking, Brienne warmed the milk over medium heat. She whisked the sugar, cornstarch, flour, egg and egg yolk together. Once the milk was steaming, she added a small serving of vanilla bean paste. She took the milk and vanilla mixture and poured it slowly into the bowl containing her sugar and cornstarch mix while whisking it vigorously. Once properly mixed, Brienne added the crème pâtissière back into a heated saucepan and continued to stir until it reached a pudding consistency. Another component of her dish was complete. She put it in the fridge to chill.

The pastry ring and puffs were baked to a deep golden hue, certainly appropriate for the golden chef of Le Lion D’or. The sweet pastry scent enveloped the kitchen, and Brienne took a moment to enjoy it before putting the pastries on a wire cooling rack.

Now it was time for the crème Chantilly. Brienne took the kitchen’s stand mixer and placed heavy cream inside its bowl. She whisked it at a high speed until indentations began to appear. Then, she added the vanilla extract and powdered sugar and whisked it until it became frosting. She stuck a finger in the bowl and tasted it. The sweetness pleased her.

The final component was a delicate caramel. She added sugar and water to a medium saucepan and allowed the mixture to simmer in medium heat. Over the span of eight minutes the white sugar mix turned dark amber. She knew she must be vigilant over this step. Caramel took seconds to burn. Once the caramel began to smoke she removed it from the heat and poured heavy cream into it. Stirring, she also added salt.

With all parts of her dish complete, it was time to assemble and plate.

The pâte à choux was placed on top of the circular puff pastry base. Brienne fit a pastry bag with a long, narrow filling tip and stuffed it with the crème pâtissière. Taking the pastry puffs, she delicately piped the crème into them. Brienne dipped the tops and bottoms of each puff in the salted caramel sauce and placed them on the pâte à choux in a circle. The remaining crème pâtissière was scooped into the center of cake. The crème Chantilly was stuffed into a pastry bag and piped over the crème pâtissière in the center of the cake. A single puff pastry was placed in the middle of the cake. Brienne slowly drizzled the caramel in heart-shaped loops over the white crème.

Finally, it was done.

She placed her creation on a cake stand with gentle hands. With a deep breath, she pushed through the kitchen doors into the dining room.

Tyrion and Jaime were in a heated conversation. Both seemed to be drinking red wine.

“The tannins in this are not sufficient,” huffed Jaime.

“They certainly are,” Tyrion huffed in kind. “Your pallet is not as refined as mine when it comes to gamay. This will pair excellently with the chicken.”

Jaime made a sour face at his brother and turned it toward Brienne.

“I’m finished,” she said bluntly, and the three of them walked back into the kitchen to assess her work.

“Why Miss Tarth, that looks simply delightful,” Tyrion said with smile.

Jaime was not as articulate. He looked between Brienne and the cake, back and forth, questioning if this woman could actually make the dish set before them.

“ _You_ made a gâteau St. Honoré?”

“Yes,” Brienne scoffed. “I did. Have some.”

“That’s very bold of you.”

“No, it’s not. It’s well within my _skill set_.”

Brienne cut the Lannister brothers both a piece of the cake. “Bon appétit,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her mouth.

The gâteau St. Honoré was breathtaking; sweet and salty, soft and crunchy, delicate yet sturdy. It sang to Jaime. He savored the flavor on his tongue, closing his eyes to experience it more fully. Gâteau St. Honoré had the reputation of being one of the most difficult desserts to perfect, and Brienne Tarth had conjured one in three hours.

This wasn’t the first time Jaime had to eat crow, and it certainly would not be the last.

“Come in at 10 a.m. tomorrow,” Jaime said and abruptly left the room.

“Welcome to Le Lion D’or Miss Tarth,” Tyrion smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the first chapter. Following chapters will not have as detailed descriptions of cooking, but I wanted to show just how involved making St. Honoré cake is. I'm looking for a beta reader for this fic. I need someone to rein me in when I get too detailed about a recipe.
> 
> Gâteau St. Honoré recipe  
> <https://www.monpetitfour.com/gateau-st-honore/>
> 
> I'm bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr if you like a constant stream of Brienne love.


	2. French Bread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta lewispanda!

Despite the late night drinking with Margaery and her brother Loras, Brienne rose just after sunrise. She was strict about her morning routine, though no one would fault her for sleeping in after the night the Tyrell siblings had orchestrated.

Donning a worn hoodie and athletic shorts, Brienne ran two miles to Stormlands gym.

Stormlands was one of the few places Brienne felt undeniably comfortable. It specialized in the martial arts, with classes in kickboxing, krav maga, aikido, and Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Every patron seemed to be either weight training or sparring. It was a focused atmosphere that Brienne loved. She could easily fade into the background when everyone around her was also muscular and brutal.

It also didn’t hurt that Renly Baratheon owned Stormlands.

After stretching and warm up, Brienne settled into a corner of the kickboxing area. She hit the punching bag in front of her until she was red with exertion and sweat poured from her face. She knew she had a long day ahead of her, and it was best to punch this equipment than Jaime Lannister’s perfect face.

Brienne frowned at the memory of the day before. Working with him was going to be a challenge, but Brienne was in need of a stable income now that a live-in nurse was attending to her father, Selwyn. Any insult Jaime threw her way she could deflect. She’s heard them all.

“Brienne,” a voice called.

She turned to see Renly walking up to her, a wide smile on his handsome face.

“You got the job,” Renly said. “I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist your baking.”

Brienne blushed. “Thanks. They only gave me an interview because of your recommendation.”

“I’m glad I was able to help you,” he said. “But your talents speak for themselves.” He patted her shoulder. “I’ll see you on Friday, yeah?”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” she replied.

Renly left Brienne to finish her workout. She gave some half hearted kicks to the punching bag as her stomach knotted. The torch she held for Renly was embarrassingly old. From the age of 13 she looked to him as the pinnacle of gentlemen. He was the standard that every man was judged against, and no one had ever come close.

Before Brienne became a tall, ugly woman, she had been a tall, ugly girl, and the world was cruel to tall, ugly girls. Because her family held an old name - and that’s all they held now - Brienne had been forced to attend debutante balls throughout her adolescence. She had never looked right in a dress, and her hair couldn’t hold a curl. It had been humiliating. She would often sit in a corner and pretend to dissolve into wallpaper.

But one night was different. Boys would line up to dance with her and fight for their turn. They would spin her around the dancefloor and compliment her grace. Some had whispered to her things that had made her blush. She could not remember their words, only her burning cheeks.

She had been happy, for what felt like the first time in her life. Then, as soon as the rush had happened, it crashed. Their laughter had come in a great wave, overwhelming her. It had been a joke. How could they ever be interested in a creature as ugly as Big Brienne?

Renly had not laughed. He had asked her to dance.

“Don’t let them see your tears,” he had told Brienne. "They're nasty little shits, and nasty little shits aren't worth crying over." 

She knew she stood no chance of being his paramour. He was far too beautiful and completely wrapped up in Loras Tyrell. But there was a safety in loving someone you know you can never have, and Brienne wanted safety more than anything at the moment.

Brienne abandoned the punching bag and jogged back to her apartment where she showered and dressed in black slacks and a white T-shirt. After a quick breakfast of oatmeal and eggs, she mounted her bike and left for Le Lion D’or.

Brienne arrived exactly at 10 a.m. Punctuality was a value instilled in Brienne very early on by her father. 

Jaime met her in the parlor.

“What are you wearing?” Jaime asked incredulously.

“Clothing?”

“I should have known you would be unprepared,” Jaime muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Follow me, Tarth.”

They went inside a small office that housed a desk marred in paperwork. Two small computers rested on opposite ends of it. Jaime opened a drawer of the desk and grabbed a double-breasted white jacket, apron and pants.

“Here,” he said, handing them to Brienne. “You need to wear chef’s whites in the kitchen. A toque blanche is unnecessary, just see that your hair is combed back.” He looked at her worn sneakers with a disapproving glare. “You will need to buy non-slip black shoes.”

Brienne nodded and avoided Jaime’s eyes. It was only her first few minutes in Le Lion D’or, and she was already being chastised.

“Change into that and put your clothes in an empty locker in the employee area. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Brienne quickly changed into the chef’s uniform and threw her clothes in a locker. When she walked into the kitchen, Jaime was rifling through the pantry. He placed sugar, kosher salt, flour, yeast and a cup of warm water at the pastry station.

“I knew we would be the same size,” Jaime said with a smug smile.

“I’m two inches taller than you,” Brienne quipped.

“Close enough to fit into the same uniform.”

Brienne blushed and Jaime’s smile widened. Antagonizing her would be so easy.

“Le Lion D’or serves five course meals, six days a week,” Jaime said. “Apéritif, entrée, plat principal, salad, and dessert. The apéritif is served in the parlor at 7 p.m. The rest are served in the dining room starting at 8. As the pastry chef, I will need you to make bread daily for the apéritif. You will also be tasked with the dessert course. I plan the week’s menu on Sunday - you and Tyrion will help.”

Brienne silently nodded as Jaime continued.

“Every course must be harmonious. We’re creating an experience that is worth more than the sum of its parts. This is more than fine dining,” he paused. “This is the most exclusive social club in Westeros. Only 25 people a night are served.”

The exclusivity of Le Lion D’or was one of the reasons the restaurant was immensely popular. Simply dining there was a status symbol. Business moguls, old money families of high society, famous actors, and legendary musicians all ate at Le Lion D’or. To secure a reservation, the most opportune of connections had to be made – mostly to Tywin Lannister. He would wine and dine high profile clients at Le Lion D’or regularly.

Jaime pointed at the ingredients he laid out. “I need French bread for tonight. Make some.”

“You think I don’t know how to make bread,” Brienne deadpanned.

“No, your performance yesterday proves that you can. I just want to see how you do it, and then I can show you the correct way.”

“The _correct_ way?”

“Yes, the correct way,” Jaime smirked. “There is a right and a wrong way of doing things in the kitchen.”

“If the outcome is the same, what does it matter?”

“Technique matters. Discipline matters. If you are going to work here, you will be doing things _my_ way. I can’t have my pastry chef untrained in French technique. My reputation as a chef is on the line here.”

Brienne knew she couldn’t argue with him, so she held her tongue and clenched her jaw.

Brienne grabbed the stand mixer and combined the dry yeast, sugar and water. The yeast proofed for five minutes, and the mix looked foamy enough. She measured out a teaspoon and a half of kosher salt and added it. Flour was added a little bit at a time to the bowl as the mixer stirred.

When the dough just started to pull away from the sides of the bowl, Brienne shut off the stand mixer. She covered all sides of dough with a light layer of flour. Grabbing a tea towel, she set the bowl aside.

“In an hour the dough will double in size from the rising yeast,” she told Jaime. “After that I will flour a cutting board and shape the dough into a round loaf. Then it goes into a floured proofing basket and gets covered for another 30 minutes. While the bread proofs, a Dutch oven is heated inside the oven to 460 degrees. The dough cooks in the Dutch oven for 30 minutes, then uncovered for another 10.”

“Very good, Tarth,” Jaime said playfully. “However, there is no reason to use a stand mixer when your mannish arms are muscled like a sailor. You can mix the dough by hand.”

Annoyance ran over Brienne’s face. Insults, and it wasn’t even noon.

“It’s better when it’s mixed by hand. There is something primitive and satisfying about cooking with your hands. You have more of a connection with your food when it is held between your fingers.”

His sentimentality surprised Brienne.

“You also neglected to organize your ingredients,” Jaime quipped. “Mise en place, Brienne. Everything in its place. It’s a philosophy I take seriously.”

“So you do take something seriously?”

Jaime did not laugh. Brienne cursed her tongue. She needed to shut up. Drawing Jaime’s ire would only end poorly for her. The salary for her position was generous, and she could not afford to lose it. She needed Le Lion D’or, and by extension, Jaime.

“Measure out the ingredients you need before you begin cooking,” he spat. “Organize them by stage. Now, make another loaf, the correct way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the Le Lion D'or staff will be introduced next chapter :) Thank you for your comments, they mean the world to me.
> 
> French bread recipe  
> <https://www.lifeasastrawberry.com/easy-crusty-french-bread/>
> 
> bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr


	3. Chocolate Éclairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to lewispanda for being an awesome beta!

A restaurant can be thought of as a car. Each part has a purpose and a place. Some are specialized, and some are universal, but every component works in tandem to make the car function.

Le Lion D’or was a luxury vehicle, boasting a staff that was as talented as they were dedicated. Every night was an intricate dance between the serving staff and the kitchen.

Brienne was never a good dancer. She worked best alone – not that there were many opportunities beyond athletics for her to work intimately with other people. Self-imposed isolation seemed the least painful route for her, at least throughout her school years. Her time at Dragonstone University hadn’t begun spectacularly, but she had managed to reconnect with Renly. He was the one to introduce Brienne to Margaery and Loras.

Brienne’s world was a small one – consisting of her father, her morning routine, her baking, and her three friends. She knew Le Lion D’or would change that, for better or for worse.

After baking enough French bread for that night’s apéritif, Jaime sent Brienne home. She returned at 6 p.m. to start her first official shift as Le Lion D’or’s pastry chef.

A copper-haired man in a stunningly tailored suit was the first to approach her as she walked in.

“You must be the new pastry chef,” he smiled. “I’m Addam. I make the cocktails and look pretty.”

Brienne chuckled and introduced herself.

“Tyrion told me you left the golden boy speechless. I’d love the same opportunity,” he continued with a wink.

Brienne’s cheeks burned at the flirtation. 

Addam took it upon himself to introduce Brienne to the maître d'hôtel, Bronn, and the two waiters he oversaw, Jon and Sam.

Bronn was an older man with deep set crow’s feet and a gruff voice. He kept a tight leash on his underlings, barking orders at them every few minutes. Jon didn’t seem to mind, but Sam would wince when Bronn raised his voice. She could tell he was the more sensitive of the two. The four men made up Le Lion D’or front of house.

The kitchen staff consisted of a nearly 7 foot tall man with extensive scarring on the right side of his face and two dark-haired boys that were animatedly talking about their evening plans after work. When Brienne pushed through the kitchen’s double doors they all turned to her, and she waved awkwardly.

“Hello, I’m Brienne,” she said.

“Our new pastry chef,” Jaime voiced from behind her. She jerked in surprise. “Introduce yourselves,” Jaime said with a dismissive hand gesture.

“Sandor,” the tall man huffed. “Sous chef.”

“Gendry,” one of the dark-haired boys said. “I’m responsible for washing everything.”

The other one came to shake her hand. “Podrick Payne. I’m the line cook.” He gave her a warm smile.

“Now that we’re all acquainted,” Jaime said as he pointed to a dry erase whiteboard on the wall. The menu for that evening was written upon it.

> **Apéritif: French bread, Brie, dried dates**
> 
> **Entrée: Steak tartare**
> 
> **Plat Principal: Soupe à L'oignon**
> 
> **Salad: Arugula**
> 
> **Dessert: Chocolate éclairs**

“Podrick, prepare the aperitif,” Jaime ordered. “I want those dates pitted and diced. The salad should be lightly dressed with olive oil. Sandor, I need shallots, capers and chives for the tartare. For the soup I need finely grated Emmental cheese and yellow onions. Gendry, bring those plates into the parlor and help them set up.”

They answered Jaime’s orders with a “yes, chef” and quickly set to work.

“I want that chocolate filling to be cold. They’ll need something refreshing after the soupe à l'oignon,” Jaime told Brienne.

She nodded in agreement.

“It’s ‘ _yes, chef_ ,’ Brienne.”

“Yes, _chef_ ,” she said begrudgingly.

Jaime’s green eyes shone with amusement as he broke into a catlike grin. “Get to work, Tarth.”

Pushing aside her annoyance, Brienne grabbed the ingredients she needed for the choux pastry. She was about to pour them into a medium saucepan when Jaime’s voice echoed in her mind.

_Mise en place, Brienne._

She considered ignoring the nagging thought, but this _was_ Jaime’s restaurant. As the executive chef, he did have control over how things were done. He was an arrogant jerk, but Le Lion D’or was undeniably the finest dining in the city. Brienne owed it to the patrons to cooperate and deliver the best possible pâtisseries.

Brienne carefully measured out the ingredients needed for each part of the éclairs and separated them by component; whole milk, water, butter, caster sugar, sea salt, flour and eggs for the choux pastry, unsweetened chocolate, crème patissière and cocoa powder for the filling, and fondant, water and cocoa powder for the glaze.

She then set the oven and combined water, milk, butter, sugar and salt in the saucepan over high heat, bringing the mixture to a boil. Once it was bubbling, she removed it from the heat. With a wooden spoon, Brienne quickly beat in the flour until it was smooth, then let the mix cook for about a minute, constantly stirring. She then added the eggs and used her strength to beat the dough to a silky smooth consistency.

The dough was transferred into a large piping bag. While Brienne let the dough cool and stiffen, she observed the kitchen. It was buzzing with activity. Sandor was mincing the vegetables for the tartare with an experienced precision, putting them in separate bowls once cut. He worked efficiently, completely focused on his task. Podrick was dicing away at dates and amassing a pile of pits. He had already arranged small wheels of Brie cheese and chunks of French bread on stylish marble platters.

Jaime was dicing frozen cuts of beef into fine cubes with a speed that nearly made Brienne’s jaw drop. Her eyes followed the fluid motion of his slices. It was as if Jaime’s knife wasn’t a knife at all – it was an extension of his right hand. Within minutes the beef was finished.

Sam and Jon came into the kitchen and started taking the platters of cheese, dates and bread to the parlor. Jon had his previously wild hair pulled back into a bun. Brienne thought the feminine hairstyle suited him well.

Checking the firmness of choux dough, Brienne began to pipe out strips of dough onto several baking trays lined with greaseproof paper. While the choux pastry baked in the oven, Brienne melted the chocolate for the filling and folded it into the prepared crème patissière. She whisked in the cocoa powder and did a taste test. The filling was bordering sweet and semisweet – perfect. She put it in the fridge to cool.

“I need entrées up for table 2 and 6,” Bronn called into the kitchen.

Podrick sprung into action, carrying plates of steak tartare to empty counter space and garnishing them with the minced chives, capers and shallots Sandor had prepared. Bronn stacked multiple plates of tartare onto his arm with ease and carried them into the dining room.

Jaime and Sandor began preparing the soupe à l'oignon. They moved like a Swiss watch – coordinated, graceful and perfectly in time with each other. How long had they worked together, Brienne wondered. Would she be able to keep up?

The éclairs were cooked to a golden brown when Brienne finished baking all the dough. The warm pastry scent wafted through her station. She took a second to relish the smell and snuff her doubts.

She whisked the chilled filling again – this would give it a creamier texture more pleasant to the mouth – and transferred it to a piping bag. She carefully filled each éclair with a gentle touch, not wanting to squish the pastry shell.

The glaze was made by warming fondant and combining it with cocoa powder and water until it became a smooth paste. Brienne piped the glaze artfully over the éclairs and began plating them.

“Wait-” she whispered to herself. The salad course wasn’t even plated yet. Podrick was currently mixing the bitter arugula salad. She had been so focused on finishing the éclairs that she stepped out of sync with the rest of the staff. The éclairs needed to stay chilled until the dessert course was served, but the fridge didn’t have the space to fit three baking sheets.

Brienne cursed silently. She was going to have to play fridge Tetris and get an earful from Jaime.

“Use the cooling rack,” Jaime called to Brienne. Her head snapped up with wide eyes. “It will be like a bunk bed in the fridge,” he continued.

“Yes, chef!”

Brienne stacked the baking sheets onto the cooling rack in the fridge and with some finagling everything miraculously fit.

When Sam began calling for the dessert course, Brienne and Podrick plated the éclairs, using delicate mint leaves as a garnish.

When the last éclair was taken to the dining room, Brienne finally took a deep breath. She had done it – barely. With time she would be able to move effortlessly through the kitchen, but in these early days Brienne would have to keep reminding herself to be more vigilant.

As Gendry finished washing and Sandor and Podrick completed their side work, Brienne decided to make puff pastry dough for the next three days. The men filtered out of the kitchen while Brienne kneaded her dough in silent concentration.

“You have flour on your face,” Jaime said as he slipped next to her.

“Hm?”

“Flour. On your face.”

She wiped it away. Fearing he came to chastise her, Brienne kept her eyes on the dough she was handling. Instead, Jaime set a bowl of soupe à l'oignon in front of her.

“You look hungry,” he said nonchalantly, and sauntered out of the kitchen.

Brienne stomach rumbled in agreement.

The surface of the soup looked like a crusty, golden cake. She took a spoon and broke into it. The inside was oily and so well blended that is was impossible to discern the cheese or onions. It also smelled heavenly.

Taking a spoonful, Brienne blew on the soup then tasted it. It was salty, savory and acidic all at once. She sighed, sipping another spoonful.

Brienne couldn’t remember another soup tasting this good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the first shift is always a crazy one. There are more characters I want to introduce (like Shae and Pia) but it just didn't fit in this chapter.
> 
> Le Lion D'or staff:  
> Jaime Lannister - executive chef  
> Brienne Tarth - pastry chef  
> Sandor Clegane - sous chef  
> Podrick Payne - line cook  
> Bronn Blackwater - maître d'  
> Jon Snow - waiter  
> Samwell Tarly - waiter  
> Addam Marbrand - bartender  
> Gendry Waters - dishwasher  
> Tyrion Lannister - sommelier (part time)
> 
> Steak Tartare recipe  
> <https://www.chefsteps.com/activities/classic-steak-tartare>
> 
> Soupe à L'oignon recipe  
> [https://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/11/magazine/11food.t.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0&_r=0](https://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/11/magazine/11food.t.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0&_r=0)
> 
> Chocolate Éclair recipe  
> <https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/chocolate_clairs_03600>
> 
> bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr


	4. Croque-Mademoiselle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for staying up late to help me get this done!!!

The rest of the week passed quickly for Brienne. Her days were filled with snarky culinary lessons from Jaime, and her nights were devoted to pâtisserie at the restaurant.

She was beginning to cement her place in the kitchen. Brienne and Podrick fell into an easy rhythm almost immediately - he helped her plate and garnish desserts, and she helped him make salad courses when she had a few minutes to spare. He smiled at her a lot. By Thursday night she started to smile as well.

She never returned Jaime’s smiles. They were far too smug.

Friday morning had Brienne and Jaime cutting three pounds of carrots.

“Those are too wide for a julienne cut,” Jaime told her.

Brienne sharply inhaled and tried again. She would never be able to match Jaime’s skill with a knife. It came to him as natural as breathing. Brienne thought it was wholly unfair that he was comparing her amateur cuts to his expert.

“No, Tarth, like _this_.” Jaime took a carrot and made several thin, long slices, transforming the carrot into uniform slivers.

She tried again.

“Better, but they still look more like batonnet cuts. Again,” he ordered.

“Yes, chef,” Brienne grumbled.

When would she have to chop things like this? The styled cuts Jaime was teaching her were for vegetables, not pastries.

Brienne held the knife in her hand. Slowly, she made her first cut. A tall, skinny piece fell from the carrot. She repeated the motion until the carrot was finished.

“There! Was that so difficult?” Jaime teased. “I’ve seen your detail work. You have strong hands. Steady hands. With practice you can master knife work.”

Brienne fussed with her collar to hide her blush. She could deflect his sarcasm, taunts and arrogance, but the slightest hint of sincerity from Jaime made Brienne uncomfortable. She had spent more time in his company this week than she anticipated, and it exhausted her.

“Let’s dice these,” Jaime said as he handed Brienne another carrot. He chopped his carrot into large, square chunks. “Large dice.” He cut the chunks again into smaller squares. “Medium dice.” He continued to cut the carrot squares into smaller pieces. “Small dice.”

Brienne mimicked his strokes.

Taking some of the julienned carrot slices, Jaime gave them a quarter turn and diced. Small cubes quickly formed from his elegant movement. “Brunoise cut. We use brunoise vegetables to garnish consommé at Le Lion D’or.”

Brienne began to practice what Jaime demonstrated as her thoughts drifted to plans for that night. Renly had insisted they check out a new bar. He hinted that it was something Brienne would love. Her stomach knotted as she thought of Renly. He would be with Loras and Margaery, who she hadn’t been able to talk with much since their drunken celebration.

A sharp pain struck Brienne, pushing her thoughts of Renly away. She had cut her index finger. Crimson blood began to run down her finger and onto the cutting board, ruining the carrots she held. It stung.

“Shit,” she breathed.

She abandoned her cutting board and washed the cut in the sink. Before she could notice Jaime at her side, he grabbed her hand and applied pressure to her injury. He held it until the blood stopped its flow and dried her off with a towel. He took a disinfectant from the first aid box near the sink and applied it to her wounded finger - then he wrapped a Band Aid and blue finger cover around it.

Brienne was too stunned to stop him as he tended to her cut.

“You stupid girl,” he said when he finished. “Stop daydreaming and focus.” Any amusement he had at her expense earlier was gone.

“I’m sorry,” Brienne whispered. She withdrew from his grasp, face burning.

They continued to cut vegetables for the rest of the morning in a tense silence; her dinner shift wasn’t much better. As Brienne biked home that night, she felt Jaime’s angry glare on her still.

She had messed up. Not only had she hurt herself, she had insulted Jaime and insinuated that she had been ungrateful for his instruction. Jaime was helping her, although she didn’t completely understand his motives. He didn’t have to explain culinary technique to her every morning. Surely there were other things he could be doing as an executive chef and co-owner of a high caliber gourmet restaurant.

A loud rumble from her stomach had Brienne in her own small kitchen. Digging into her fridge, she extracted eggs, milk, Brie and butter. The butter was fresh from the local farmers’ market; Brienne’s spirits were lifted by the promise of its rich flavor.

She also grabbed paprika, pepper, breadcrumbs, a baguette and four anchovy fillets. Brienne measured out her ingredients first, then started prepping. She finely chopped the anchovy, taking time to practice a few of the cutting styles she learned earlier. Anchovies reminded her of her Tarth. After she was satisfied with the size, she sliced the baguette into uniform pieces with a bread knife and put them aside.

Remembering a trick her father taught her, Brienne took a sharp kitchen knife and ran it under the hot water from her tap. Once the metal was warmed, she used it to slice the Brie cheese. She placed the cheese on the bread and whisked the eggs and milk together. The bread and cheese were garnished with the chopped anchovies and seasoned with paprika and a generous sprinkle of ground pepper.

An additional slice of bread was added to cover the sandwiches. Brienne pressed the ends of each sandwich together tightly then dipped them in the egg wash and rolled each one in breadcrumbs.

After melting a chunk of butter, the croque-mademoiselles were fried on both sides until golden brown.

The scent of cooked butter and Brie danced through Brienne’s apartment. She stacked her meal on a plate and greedily ate standing at her counter. The savory butter and bread combined with the salty brine of the anchovies and smooth, creamy Brie made Brienne hum with satisfaction.

She licked her fingers clean then got herself ready to meet her friends. Margaery picked Brienne up in her red sports car, and they set off to the mystery bar Renly was so insistent about.

“Do you know anything about this place?” Margaery asked her.

“Just the address. Google doesn’t have an updated listing. Renly was so cryptic about it.”

Margaery sighed. “Loras doesn’t know either. Maybe it’s a nude bar like the one we went to in Dorne a couple of years ago!”

“Gods, I hope not,” Brienne said. Her memories of their trip to Dorne were hazy at best. They drank so much Dornish wine that Brienne swore off alcohol for two years.

The women pulled up to what looked like a brightly lit warehouse. A sign mounted to the building read “Death and Axes” in bright neon green. Margaery and Brienne exchanged an exasperated look before joining Renly and Loras inside.

Death and Axes was loud. The thwacking of tomahawks into corkboard, clinking glasses and boisterous laughter enveloped the bar. Patrons were drinking pints of beer and throwing axes at targets. Margaery looked around the place, confused by the concept of the establishment, but Brienne smiled with excitement.

Loras waved them over to a table.

“Isn’t this place cool?!” Loras exclaimed, his cheeks flushed pink. “Renly found out about it online.”

“How many pints have you had already?” Margaery asked her brother.

“None of your concern, Marg,” he laughed.

“I needed to get him drunk, or else we would stand no chance against him while axe-throwing,” Renly said. “His aim is too good.”

“Aw, babe!” Loras elbowed Renly lovingly in the ribs.

“Now I need a drink,” Margaery said.

She went to the busy bar with Brienne. Margaery was the kind of woman who never had to wait long for a drink at a bar - she was as beautiful as she was charming. Her shiny hair was always perfectly quaffed and soft to the touch. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with a mischievous secret, and her hips swayed ever so slightly with an effortless sensuality.

Margaery ordered two pints of the dark stout on tap with her signature half smile. The bartender quickly poured the beer for her and Brienne.

“So, how was your first week?” Margaery asked Brienne as they came back to the table.

“It’s…challenging.”

“I bet that kitchen is insane,” Loras said.

“It’s busy but not chaotic,” Brienne said. “Jaime runs it with an iron fist. He keeps it organized.”

“How is Jaime at work?” Renly asked. “I only see him at the occasional family dinner, and he’s been exceptionally tight-lipped these last three years.” 

Renly’s brother Robert had been dating Cersei Lannister since Jaime’s stint on _Chef de Fer_. Tywin Lannister had set up the two, insisting it would be a smart match. It wasn’t. The Lannister and Baratheon siblings suffered through these dinners twice a month.

Brienne paused, thinking back on his crude comments over the week.

“He’s annoying, arrogant, a total ass and a control freak – but he knows what he’s doing. He is the best chef in King’s Landing, maybe even in Westeros.”

Renly laughed. “That sounds like him.”

“Jaime Lannister is too handsome for his own good,” Loras stated, and his sister agreed.

“I haven’t seen him lately, but Loras and I would often see the Lannisters at charity galas grandma Olenna organized,” Margaery said. “He was a charmer, that’s for sure. All the old ladies swarmed him when he wasn’t glued to Cersei’s side. That man has a thousand dollar tan and a million dollar smile.”

“Yeah, he’s good looking,” Brienne admitted. Jaime was easily a 12 out of 10.

“I can’t believe he’s not dating some model. You know he’s been famously single forever,” Loras added.

“Can we not talk about my boss now,” Brienne pleaded.

“Yes, no more work talk,” Margaery ordered. “Let’s chug these beers, throw some sharp objects and try not to hurt ourselves.”

The four friends toasted their pints and drank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The axe-throwing bar was inspired by that video of Jason Momoa. You know the one. Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos! I love reading and responding to them all. Y'all make me excited to write this.
> 
> Croque-Mademoiselle recipe  
> <https://www.dairygoodness.ca/recipes/croque-mademoiselle>
> 
> Next chapter we get to see what the Lannister brothers are up to :)
> 
> bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr


	5. Aligot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for everything you do! Have an amazing time in London!!!!

“Trust me, Jaime,” Tyrion pleaded. “They are magnificent! The best in Lys! You will not find a better harpist. I swear-”

“Fine! Your girlfriend can have the job.”

Tyrion grinned at his victory. He had been pestering Jaime the better part of the evening about Shae. They had met a month ago and rarely left each other’s side. Jaime thought the lovebirds were no better than hormonal teenagers.

“They really _are_ good,” Tyrion said. “Patrons will love them.”

“If they aren’t, this gig will be short-lived,” Jaime grumbled.

Tyrion left Jaime to catalogue his latest wine shipment, practically skipping away. Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. He loved his brother, but Tyrion was the biggest fool for love. He had short, intense relationships for most of his adult life that had ended in heartache more often than not. Jaime could shield his brother from the cruelty of King’s Landing high society but not romantic rejection.

He hoped Shae and her friend were as talented as Tyrion promised - Le Lion D’or was in need of Saturday night entertainment.

As Jaime dwelled on Tyrion’s love life, he went through Le Lion D’or’s pantry, taking notes on his phone of what needed to be restocked.

Unbidden, his thoughts drifted to his morning with Brienne. The stubborn girl had been careless and cut herself.

Brienne was full of untapped potential; he could see it just below her surface. He shouldn’t have let the awkwardness between them fester throughout the morning and into their dinner shift. Walking on eggshells would do nothing but hinder his progress with Brienne.

He was eyeing the flour reserves when his cell phone rang, “Cersei” flashing on the screen. His breath caught in his chest. It went to voicemail. A cold, sticky feeling crept over Jaime. What could his sister possibly want? Jaime could count the number of words they had exchanged in the past three years on a single hand.

He would not think about Cersei, he told himself. He couldn’t.

Ignoring the slight trembles in his hands, Jaime opened his contact list and dialed Addam’s number.

“Jaime! What’s up boss man?” Addam said as a greeting.

“You and Tyrion have finally convinced me to enjoy my Friday nights.”

Addam let out a deep laugh. “I know just the place.”

Tyrion called a cab for the two of them, delight easily reflected in his mismatched eyes. He could not recall the last time he and Jaime had done something other than work on a Friday night. Jaime’s entire life revolved around Le Lion D’or. Every holiday and weekend was devoted to French cuisine. It consumed him.

“Where are we going?" Jaime asked his brother.

“Some new bar. Apparently you throw sharp things at targets.”

“Is that safe?”

“Probably not,” Tyrion said with a laugh. “But you have a good eye. Just don’t lose one.”

Jaime laughed and mussed his younger brother’s hair playfully.

Once they arrived at their destination, Tyrion and Jaime met Addam outside.

“Really?” Jaime bristled, pointing at the "Death and Axes" neon sign.

Addam and Tyrion were amused by the pun; Jaime was not. The three men went into the loud bar and headed straight to grab drinks. Addam seemed to know the bartender, and the two high fived congenially. Addam slapped down his credit card and proclaimed that drinks were on him.

“Give me the strongest beer on tap,” Jaime told the bartender.

“Make that three,” Tyrion chimed in.

They were each handed a pint of thick, dark beer. Jaime was the first to pick one up and drain it. Addam hollered in approval and chugged his beer as well.

Jaime waved down the bartender for a refill when a familiar voice rang out.

“You’re holding it wrong! That’s why you keep missing the target!”

Jaime’s head snapped around to see Brienne Tarth clutching two tomahawks in her hands. She was yelling at Renly Baratheon as the Tyrell siblings stood by trying desperately to hold in their laughter.

“Like _this_ , Renly,” Brienne shouted, waving one of the axes dangerously close to his face.

With a quick motion, Brienne threw the axe in her right hand. It flipped in the air and crashed into the center of the target with an impressive thud. She reeled her left arm back and threw the other axe. It also hit the center. Raucous cheering erupted around Brienne and Renly.

Brienne’s brutal strength and precision left Jaime dumbfounded. How could someone so large be so graceful? She was an Amazon warrior. No – she was a lioness.

Jaime focused on Brienne as she went to retrieve her weapons. The noise of Death and Axes began to fade away into the background; everyone in the bar slowly vanished. Everyone but Brienne. He knew he shouldn’t be watching her. It was rude to openly stare, and yet stare he did, until Addam slapped his shoulders.

“Hey Brienne,” Addam called. “That is some arm you got!”

Finally noticing her audience, Brienne blushed deeply. Margaery enthusiastically waved over their group.

“Good to see you two outside of dinner plans,” Renly said to Tyrion and Jaime.

Jaime nodded in agreement.

“Jaime, now that you have the best pastry chef in King’s Landing, Loras and I will be making an appearance at Le Lion D’or,” Margaery teased.

“As long as you leave your grandmother at home,” Jaime replied. “That woman will scare away the rest of my wait staff.”

Loras and Margaery shared a knowing look and giggled. Their party had obviously been imbibing for a while.

Brienne was practically hiding behind Loras and Renly, obviously trying to avoid the gaze of the Lannisters. Her hot blush – a combination of embarrassment and alcohol – made her as red as the silk in Le Lion D’or.

“A word, Brienne?” he asked her.

“Sure…” she said softy.

Tyrion wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Jaime as he and Brienne walked to an uncrowded corner of the bar to talk. Brienne’s discomfort was visible.

“I’m not going to fire you,” Jaime said. “So stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Hunching, cowering. Whatever you want to call it.”

“I-I’m not _cowering_.”

“Then stand up straight and look me in the eye,” Jaime said with more force than he intended.

Brienne straightened her spine and held her shoulders back. Her large blue eyes furiously looked into Jaime’s. A moment passed between the two as they stared at each other indignantly. She does have astonishing eyes, Jaime thought as he cleared his throat.

“You were careless today,” he said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Yes, I was careless,” Brienne replied, her voice lowering. “I’m sorry.”

“I must apologize too. I shouldn’t have let my anger affect how we interact in the kitchen.”

For the second time that day, Jaime’s sincerity made Brienne’s stomach twist.

“I should go home. Do you want me to come in at 9 tomorrow?” she asked.

“Just come in for the dinner shift.”

She acknowledged Jaime’s decision and left to find her friends. Once she left the bar with Margaery, Jaime let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Addam, Tyrion and Jaime drank two more pints and attempted to land axes on targets. Jaime was the only one with any luck.

By time the cab dropped Jaime off at his uptown apartment, he was starving. His stomach rumbled as he grabbed butter, crème fraîche and Cantal cheese from his fridge and put them next to the potatoes, white pepper, salt, and a clove of garlic on the counter.

Now was the time for comfort food of the highest order.

Jaime organized his ingredients and washed the potatoes. He peeled and quartered them with an experienced ease. 

Placing the potatoes in a pot of salted water, Jaime boiled them until tender. Drained and then mashed, the potatoes were ready for the remaining ingredients. The salt, white pepper and a generous amount of fresh butter were added next before he stirred the mixture vigorously for two minutes, allowing the ingredients to fully incorporate with each other. Setting that aside, Jaime took a medium saucepan and brought the crème fraîche with garlic to a medium heat. It needed to be steaming, not boiling, or else the delicate crème fraîche would break apart.

Jaime removed the garlic clove and poured the hot crème fraîche into the mashed potatoes, then beat the mix on a low heat until his potatoes became slick and glossy. Raising the temperature, he added the Cantal cheese half a cup at a time to the creamy mashed potatoes. 

Jaime took his time. A strong, sturdy beating is the secret to aligot’s velvety texture.

Once he was satisfied with his dish, he poured the aligot into a bowl and grabbed a spoon. He was too hungry to fuss with setting the table, so he stood at the island in his kitchen and indulged.

The aligot smelled homey, with the right balance of starch and garlic. Butter, cheese and potatoes formed a perfect trinity in Jaime’s mouth. The texture was so smooth, almost soup-like. He let out a small moan of satisfaction.

The trials of the day fell away with each hot spoonful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, who wouldn't be shook by Brienne sinking bullseyes... I'm forever grateful for everyone's kind words and kudos.
> 
> Aligot recipe  
> <https://www.thespruceeats.com/classic-french-aligot-recipe-1375727>
> 
> bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr


	6. Charcuterie Board

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my amazing beta lewispanda came through with editing this chapter. Thank you!

Sometimes Brienne will see a man with mousy brown hair and a crooked nose, and it stops her in her tracks. Panic seizes her heart for an unbearable moment, but abides when she realizes that man is not Hyle Hunt. In truth, she has not seen Hyle since her time at Dragonstone University, but King’s Landing is a large city attracting many tourists. He could easily be in any crowd on the street.

The thought of having to make pleasantries with him made Brienne’s stomach turn. He was someone she wished to never see again.

So when she heard her name being called by his familiar voice on Sunday afternoon, she panicked. Brienne fumbled with her bike lock and prepared to sprint into Le Lion D’or’s back entrance.

A hand on her shoulder turned Brienne into a marble statue.

“It really is you!” Hyle exclaimed. With what she hoped was a neutral expression, Brienne tilted her chin to look up at him. He looked as plain as he had in college, but now he was sporting a trimmed goatee. “I guess there aren’t that many blondes pushing 7 feet in Westeros,” he said with a chuckle.

Brienne swiftly removed Hyle’s hand from her shoulder and stood up to her full height. She was a full foot taller than the man.

“What are you doing in King’s Landing?” he asked.

“Working,” Brienne said, staring down at him.

“Oh? Putting that degree in medieval history to good use?”

“No.”

Hyle gave her a half smile, determined to ignore the growing tension between them. He opened his mouth to continue questioning Brienne when the slam of Le Lion D’or’s back door startled them. Jaime stood at the threshold, his eyes narrowing at the pair.

Brienne turned to walk inside the restaurant, her heart beating erratically. She was eager to get away from Hyle, but he caught her by the wrist.

“Look Brienne, I’m sorry about the way-”

“Leave my employee alone,” Jaime snapped, removing Hyle’s grip on Brienne. He guided her the short distance to the restaurant by a hand on the small of her back. Jaime shut the door and bolted the deadlock.

Brienne couldn’t meet his eyes. She was blushing a deep red and wringing her hands together anxiously.

“Are you all right?” Jaime asked.

“I’m fine,” she said in a quiet voice.

Jaime’s expression softened as he looked at Brienne. He had been watching the uncomfortable encounter from inside Le Lion D’or. How often was Brienne harassed in the street? How many men felt like they could grab at her?

“Tarth…do you know him?”

“Unfortunately,” she said with a huff. “We both went to Dragonstone.”

Sensing that she did not want to discuss the matter further, Jaime led her back to the dining room. Tyrion was waiting for them with a glass of wine in hand.

“Tyrion, please get a 2017 Beaujolais from the cellar for us,” Jaime said.

“Certainly, dear brother.”

Tyrion smiled sweetly at Brienne and left to collect the wine.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Jaime told her as he strolled to the kitchen.

Jaime sifted through the fresh fruit in the pantry. A golden pear caught his eye. Picking up the fruit, Jaime also grabbed a small Brie wheel, thinly-sliced prosciutto, and a crusty French bread baguette.

He washed the pear and moved the rest of the ingredients to a large cutting board. The fruit was sliced into pieces by Jaime, as was the Brie, baguette and prosciutto. He arranged the food on a cheese plate with a delicate hand. Assessing the plating, he nodded, satisfied.

Jaime took the charcuterie board to the dining room and set it in front of Brienne. She looked up at him with large, questioning eyes.

“For you,” he said.

Brienne nodded and thanked him softly. Tyrion strode back to the dining room carrying a bottle of wine and three glasses. Taking his seat next to Brienne, he expertly poured the red wine and offered her one. She accepted it with a weary smile.

Her distress had upset Jaime more than he would admit. The clawing, anxious feeling inside him had finally subsided when he saw Brienne take a sip of wine and eat a pear slice. Jaime knew one thing for certain: good food and good wine are the antidote to a horrible day.

“There is a process to enjoying a fine wine, Miss Tarth,” Tyrion said. “Swirl, sniff, sip.”

He demonstrated the technique with his own glass. Brienne mirrored his actions but took a large gulp of wine instead of a dainty sip.

At that, Jaime raised his glass to toast with a laugh. The three tapped their glasses together and drank.

“Any special guests we need to cater for this week?” Jaime asked Tyrion.

“Father is bringing the Greyjoys on Wednesday and Oberyn Martell on Friday.”

“Which Greyjoys?”

“Balon, Asha and Theon. Balon will no doubt demand to be treated like royalty,” Tyrion said with an eye roll.

Jaime thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. An idea came to him, and he lit up like a bulb.

“We’ll do just that. Tarth, what would you pair with lamprey?”

“ _Lamprey_?” she asked.

“Lamprey à la bordelaise,” he grinned.

Brienne smiled sincerely. “Of course! The medieval delicacy of kings and queens.”

“Exactly. What should we pair it with?”

“Something from Bordeaux as well,” Brienne said, thinking. “Cannelés.”

Jaime approved of her choice, as did Tyrion who offered that Cognac be served instead of wine.

“For Oberyn Martell, I think we should go spicy. He’s Dornish and made a stink last time he was here about how mild our food was.”

“French cuisine doesn’t really lend itself to spice,” Brienne said cautiously.

“True, but Le Lion D’or is my restaurant, and I’ll do as I please with its menu. Purists can go elsewhere.”

Brienne chuckled at that truth.

“We’ll make boeuf bourguignon, with a Dornish twist.”

“Excellent idea, Jaime,” Tyrion said. “We must also have a Dornish strongwine.”

Brienne pondered desserts before settling on fig tarts.

The rest of the week was open for any dish. Tyrion listed his new acquisitions while Jaime and Brienne thought of pairings.

Brienne slowly nibbled through her snack and sipped her wine. By the time Tyrion refilled her glass for the second time, she was feeling much more relaxed than she had been the past two days.

“Would you like more cheese?” Jaime asked her.

As if on cue, Brienne’s stomach rumbled. Jaime and Tyrion laughed good-naturedly while Brienne blushed anew.

“Salty, sweet, sharp or nutty?”

“I just want something flavorful,” Brienne said.

Jaime disappears into the kitchen and return with a plate of white cheese with a deep yellow rind. Brienne picked up a cube and set it in her mouth. She let it sit on her tongue as she experienced the flavor.

The semi-hard cheese was rich with herbal and nutty undertones. It coated her mouth with its full flavor. She sighed with pleasure after she swallowed.

“That’s Ossau-Iraty, a Franco-Basque cheese made from sheep’s milk,” Jaime said.

Brienne finally met Jaime’s eyes. “It’s incredible. I’ve never had cheese like that.”

“We’ll have to add affineuring to your morning lessons.”

They both smiled, genuinely, and finished preparations for the week ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up between our leads 👀
> 
> An affineur is an expert in aging cheese.
> 
> Charcuterie Board recipe  
> [https://abountifulkitchen.com/how-to-build-a-charcuterie-board/ ](https://abountifulkitchen.com/how-to-build-a-charcuterie-board/)
> 
> bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr


	7. Lamprey à la Bordelaise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter's recipe is gross. There is skinning and blood.
> 
> Thank you lewispanda for being my beta (❁´◡`❁)
> 
> ~Check out the new illustration of chef Jaime and chef Brienne in chapter 1~

“These are as homely as you,” Jaime teased as he held a lamprey up to Brienne. She glared at him, unamused. They had come in early to prepare the lamprey à la bordelaise for that night. Jaime had insisted Brienne help him.

The sight of his coy smile had Brienne regretting that she had left her kickboxing session at Stormlands early. It would be much more polite to kick a punching bag than her boss.

“Shouldn’t we make the sauce first?” Brienne asked.

Jaime sighed dramatically and tossed the lamprey back into the cooler containing the rest of them.

“Fine,” he said, “Mise the shallots, leeks and lardons. I’ll get the wine.”

Brienne carefully washed and dried the leeks and shallots. She finely chopped the shallots with a steady hand, her pace showing improvement from Jaime’s instruction and continued practice. For the leaks, she sliced the ends of the vegetables then cut them in two.

The lardons – really just strips of pork fat – were diced. The smell reminded Brienne of childhood breakfasts with her father. He would wake up early and fry fatty bacon, eggs and potatoes. The sizzling bacon grease would be scrambled into the eggs or used to coat lima beans and zipper peas for lunch. Her mouth watered at the memory.

Selwyn Tarth was not a remarkable cook, but that wasn’t important to Brienne. Every meal they had together was better than anything she could get at a gourmet restaurant. His technique was average at best, but the way his food made Brienne feel – safe, loved – was something she craved, and something she sorely missed.

Her father had not made a meal for the two of them since Brienne had been in high school. The symptoms of Parkinson’s disease had begun to affect him then. Shaking hands and lack of balance made it difficult to move around the house and near impossible to fry bacon in a cast iron skillet.

He had to retire from the small business he built from the ground up. Taking tourists sailing and fishing in the rough waters surrounding her native island had been their sole source of income for 18 years. It was a business with a single employee – Selwyn. Brienne begged her father to let her take over, but he refused. She would have had to sacrifice her high school diploma and college acceptance. With no other options, he had been forced to close it.

Pitiful government assistance had kept a roof over their heads, but not much else. Now with a preexisting condition, health insurance rates had been unforgiving or nonexistent. Pills had been rationed, and pain had been swallowed without complaint. Afternoons had been filled with coupon clipping and bike riding to discount grocery stores in search of cheap ingredients. Brienne would cook and clean and look after her father as much as he let her. She loved him; she worried about him.

She had wished she hadn’t wanted to leave the island so badly.

When autumn came, she had left her father in the care of his distant cousin. She would not let him see her tears as she had gotten on the ferry to the mainland. Had they been of sadness or relief? Brienne still didn’t know.

Throughout her time in higher education, Brienne would supplement her academic stipend with jobs waiting tables. Once a month she would send a padded envelope flush with her tips to her father. He would refuse it, she would insist, and eventually they both agreed it would go into an emergency medical fund for the both of them.

When Brienne had graduated, she had moved back home. A degree in medieval history had made her prospects limited, and she needed to take care of her father. His Parkinson’s had been progressing, and his medications had been not as effective as they once had been.

One day while cleaning out Selwyn’s master closet, Brienne had found a box full to the brim with cookbooks and index cards. Blowing the dust off the cover of the first book she had picked up, Brienne had thumbed through the pages. Notes written in an elegant script had littered the margins of nearly every page.

> _Use kosher salt instead of sea salt!! We loved this recipe. So moist! Do NOT make this again._

Brienne had taken the box to Selwyn, unsure of what to do with its contents. He had taken one look at it and smiled wistfully.

“Those are your mother’s,” he had said.

“She baked?”

“She was practically a Keebler elf,” he had laughed. “She was always baking.”

Brienne had not known much about her mother. Alynne Tarth had died in childbirth. Sometimes, it was still an open wound for Selwyn. Brienne had hated to see him in pain, so she kept her curiosities to herself.

Brienne had decided to keep the box for herself. She would spend hours looking through handwritten recipes and dog-eared cookbooks. One recipe had been attempted, and another, and another, until she had completed every last one.

She would begin in the morning and finish in the evening. With every dish, she had improved little by little. Selwyn had been glad to see his daughter invigorated with a purpose. Brienne had taken to patisserie like a bird took to flying. She had a natural talent that she had cultivated through rigorous trial and error.

Word had spread about her skills, and soon neighbors had been asking to buy Brienne’s baked goods or commissioning fancy cakes for special occasions. The income had been good, but the strain of balancing orders, caring for her father and up keeping the house had been heavy on Brienne’s shoulders.

Then, Renly had stepped in and arranged for a full-time nurse for Selwyn. Brienne had sent him a mountain of crème puffs in gratitude. She still had to find a way to thank him for her position at Le Lion D’or.

The clanking of kitchen utensils sprung Brienne out of her thoughts of the past.

Jaime poured a deep red wine into a cast iron pot and placed it on the stove. Dropping a tied cheesecloth of herbs into the pot, he put the stove on high to bring the wine to a boil.

“The bundle is called a bouquet garni,” Jaime said as he poured the remaining wine into two glasses. “Our mix usually has parsley, thyme, bay leaves and rosemary.”

He held one glass out to Brienne, and she took it. The wine tasted fairly robust and bitter, too bitter for Brienne.

“Not a fan of this cabernet sauvignon?” he laughed.

“I prefer sweeter wines,” Brienne said. She drained the rest of her glass despite her distaste.

Jaime laughed again and then smiled at her. It was a real smile, finally free of teasing and smugness. The corners of Brienne’s mouth rose automatically, and she too giggled.

“Brown what you prepared and add it to the wine,” Jaime told her. “Keep your ingredients separate though. It’s more to clean up, but it will give the dish more distinct flavors.”

Brienne coated three small pans with generous chunks of butter and sautéed the shallots, leeks and lardons in separate pans. First she added the shallots to the wine and herb mix that was now simmering. Then she added the leeks, followed by the fatty lardons.

Jaime poured a glass of cognac into the sauce and covered it. It needed two and a half hours to simmer.

“Now’s the fun part,” Jaime quipped.

They hung several lampreys by their heads over a trough filled with cognac. With a quick motion, Jaime cut the tails off. Blood drained into the trough, creating a dark mixture with the cognac. The lampreys were then immersed into boiling water – this made them easier to clean.

Jaime instructed Brienne to hang the fish again. Both worked to remove all of the skin. When they were done, Jaime moved the lampreys to a cutting board large enough for both him and Brienne to work side by side.

“Cut each one into 6 centimeter pieces,” Jaime said. “Slice into the belly – like this – and take out the intestines and eggs.”

They worked in a comfortable silence until every lamprey was skinned, cleaned, and cut.

Jaime browned the fish with oil and carefully added them to the sauce. Had it already been more than two hours, Brienne wondered with surprise.

Jaime tasted the sauce and frowned.

“What is it?” Brienne asked, worried that she had ruined the dish.

“Too acidic,” Jaime answered. “No matter, get two prunes from the pantry. That will take the edge off it.”

Brienne grabbed the prunes and added them to the sauce as Jaime took the blood and cognac mix and whisked in a teaspoon of flour. He spread the blood evenly over the chunks of lamprey. As to not crush the leeks, Jaime did not stir.

The food continued to simmer for 20 minutes then was removed to cool for dinner service that night.

As they washed their dishes, Brienne snuck glances at Jaime. He was in a much better mood than she had seen before. Being around him wasn’t such a chore when he was like this.

“King Henry the first loved to eat lamprey,” Brienne said. “Some historians say that he ate so much he died. That’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?”

“I think his chef decided to poison him for demanding the dish so often. They probably left the cartilaginous cord intact.”

Jaime chuckled. “If I had to cook for Balon Greyjoy every night, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As lewispanda said to me: This is Brienne's origin story 😭 ~marvel theme plays in the background~
> 
> Lamprey à la Bordelaise recipe  
> [http://www.chainedesrotisseurs.com/news_online/story.php?ids=718&title=](http://www.chainedesrotisseurs.com/news_online/story.php?ids=718&title=)
> 
> bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr


	8. Cannelés

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the amazing illustration of chef Jaime and Brienne by ayofandomthings in chapter 1!!!!
> 
> As always, thank you lewispanda.

Despite Jaime and Brienne prepping the plat principal, the kitchen at Le Lion D’or was as busy as ever. Podrick fluttered around the kitchen, trying desperately to plate the entrée course before Sam and Jon took every plate to the dining room, while others focused on their respective dishes.

The kitchen whiteboard read:

> Apéritif: Sardines, goat chèvre, olive tapenade, 7 grain bread
> 
> Entrée: Herb and lemon poached baby artichokes
> 
> Plat Principal: Lamprey à la bordelaise
> 
> Salad: Mixed greens
> 
> Dessert: Cannelés

The playful atmosphere from earlier dissipated as soon as Tywin Lannister entered the building. Every staff member seemed on edge. Addam barely greeted Brienne, Sam looked as white as a sheet, and Sandor – though he usually didn’t have much to say – had not spoken at all. The Lannister patriarch was a black, suffocating cloud.

Jaime was less affected by the presence of his father, no doubt from years under his thumb. His face was blank, but his eyes gleamed with determination. Jaime wasn’t one to cower, and neither was Brienne.

From what she knew of Tywin, he was just another man used to getting his way. The 68-year-old Casterly CEO dominated King’s Landing’s high society. There was not a single high-end hotel, jeweler or wine supplier that did not know of him. Tywin was often on the cover of the business section of The Westeros Times. Brienne couldn’t recall seeing him smiling in a single photo.

He was always dressed in a smart, well-fitted suit adorned with various golden cufflinks. Thinning hair combed back, shined shoes and a displeased expression accompanied him wherever he went. Renly had called him old money personified.

Tyrion came that night as well. He was there to make polite conversation with the younger Greyjoys. Tywin was strictly business, but Tyrion was a salve for any awkward social engagement, especially when alcohol was being served.

Brienne was helping Podrick plate the last artichoke dishes when Tyrion Lannister strolled into the kitchen. Podrick nearly dropped the plates in his hands in surprise. The two greeted each other warmly.

“What are you doing back here, Mr. Lannister?” he asked Tyrion. “You aren't working tonight.”

“Oh, I’m working Pod,” he said, “Just not as a sommelier. Father asked me to keep Theon and Asha from spooning their eyes out at dinner from boredom. The imp is the entertainment tonight.”

“Don’t call yourself that,” Jaime said from across the room. He wiped his hands on his apron and walked over to the three of them.

“But dear brother, if I don’t, they will.”

“Who’s ‘ _they_?’”

Tyrion gave him a sad, knowing smile but did not answer. Jaime turned to Podrick and Brienne. “Deep breaths, Pod. You’re doing fine. Tarth, you should start on the cannelés.”

“Yes, chef,” they both replied, leaving Tyrion and Jaime to complete their tasks.

“How is Father? Dour as usual?” Jaime asked.

“Even more so,” Tyrion replied. “Balon Greyjoy has been dragging his feet on this merger for months. This is only the second time he has come to King’s Landing since negotiations began two years ago. Father is getting impatient and is eager to close this deal and send the Greyjoys back to the Iron Islands.”

The brothers shared a look of discontent at the situation and the respective parts Tywin expected them to play. Jaime was supposed to be Tywin’s golden boy - his heir, his legacy, his shadow. He was supposed to go to private school, get into an Ivy League college, study business, graduate, and take on a position at Casterly. Jaime had been intended to rise up the ranks of the company, marry a respectable woman with a sizable fortune or influence, and have three blonde children to carry on the Lannister family dynasty.

He did none of that.

Jaime had dropped out of high school and backpacked around Europe - financed in part by selling the BMW Tywin had given him for his seventeenth birthday. He had stayed with distant relatives on his mother’s side in France and became enamored with French cuisine. He had taken on several apprenticeships over a few short years and returned to Westeros with nothing but a briefcase of chef’s knives. He had enrolled in culinary school shortly after and quickly distinguished himself as a brilliant chef.

Tywin’s plans for Tyrion were simple: stay out of the papers and refrain from foolishness. Both of his sons disappointed him greatly.

His daughter, Cersei, was the dutiful one. She graduated from the right schools, received the right degrees, publicly dated the right men. Cersei tried to please her father in the ways her brothers could not. She believed in the Lannister legacy. That did not stop Tywin from trying to sell her off like a broodmare. He only saw her as a conduit to making a political marriage for the family.

“Take the Everclear you have stashed away in the office back to the table,” Jaime suggested. “A buzz will entertain more than you ever could.”

Tyrion left with a wink to retrieve a flask of 190 proof grain alcohol.

As brothers talked, Brienne was busy buttering the copper canelé molds. She had made the dough yesterday, and it awaited her in the fridge.

After their culinary lesson the day before, Brienne had brought a mixture of milk, butter and vanilla extract to a simmer. While she had waited, Brienne had combined her flour, salt and sugar in a medium mixing bowl. She had beat three eggs in another bowl, careful to not incorporate air.

Once the milk had begun to bubble, she removed the saucepan from the stove. It needed to cool for 15 minutes.

The eggs were poured into the flour bowl, followed by the cooled milk mixture. Using her strength, Brienne had stirred until the dough became silken smooth. Rum was then blended into the dough. She had wrapped the finished product in parchment paper and left it to cool overnight.

Looking at the chilled dough, Brienne frowned. It had separated in the fridge. She stirred it again until the dough became a singular blend once more, easing her worries, then poured it into the molds and baked on high for 20 minutes, then on low for another 30.

She took them out of the oven and examined the cannelés’ bottoms. They were a very dark brown but not burnt. Perfect, she thought.

As Brienne set the dessert to cool, she heard the kitchen doors fly open. Bronn came in briskly with a pained expression on his weathered face.

“Jaime,” he called.

“Is it that time already?”

“Go out there and kiss some ass. Now. Before those Greyjoy cunts try to trip Sam and Jon again.”

Jaime sighed and signaled Sandor to finish his task. He left the kitchen after smoothing out his uniform, washing his hands, and running his fingers through his hair. Brienne chuckled to herself at Jaime’s primping. He could have walked into the dining room in rags, and he still would be the most good looking man within five blocks.

Jaime glided into the dining room as the wait staff brought in palate-cleansing salads. He stopped at each table and made polite small talk with a beautiful, but disingenuous, smile. He asked patrons about their meal, their children, their careers. He knew most of the clientele, either from society circles, Tywin’s business connections or supermarket tabloids.

This schmoozing was the only thing Jaime despised about being a _celebrity_ chef. The renown, the access to the best ingredients, and the easy press for Le Lion D’or kept Jaime in the odd bubble that was fame, and he used it to his advantage.

When he greeted Tywin’s table, Jaime bowed slightly with a flourish. Tyrion grinned at that; their father did not.

“Mr. Greyjoy, how did you like the lamprey?”

“It was good enough,” Balon smirked. “Needed more sauce.”

“We’ll be sure to do that the next time you’re in town,” Jaime said with a smile. “Theon, Asha, good to see you two. It’s been nearly 10 years. How is the Pike rugby team going to survive without you next year, Asha?”

Asha snorted with laughter. The Greyjoy siblings were both pink-faced from alcohol.

“They’ll either sink or swim without me to whip them into shape,” she said. “Sinking is more likely, I think.”

Theon and Tyrion chuckled at her reply.

“Your dessert will be out soon,” Jaime told the table. “It’s another delicacy from Bordeaux, crafted by our pastry chef.”

“How is the new chef?” Tywin asked through his thin lips. “Is he everything Renly promised?”

“ _She_ is.”

Tywin raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing. Jaime bid a polite farewell and slinked back into the kitchen.

Brienne and Podrick were plating the cannelés, Gendry was diligently washing dishes, and Sandor was wiping down his and Jaime’s shared station. None of them paid Jaime any mind. Brienne and Podrick were so engrossed in their work that neither noticed Jaime spear a cannelé with a fork.

He bit into the dessert, the sweet vanilla flavor with a hint of rum exploding on his tongue. The caramelized crust hid the moist, tender and slightly chewy center. It was absolutely delicious.

“Well done, Tarth,” Jaime said.

Brienne broke her concentration to smile at him. Her large blue eyes seemed even more lovely when she did.

She does have astonishing eyes, Jaime mused again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've officially planned out the rest of this fic so there is now a chapter limit. We'll see how this goes....
> 
> Cannelés recipe  
> <https://cnz.to/recipes/cookies-small-cakes/caneles-recipe/>
> 
> bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr


	9. Eggs Benedict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for your continued help!
> 
> A short story of mine (a bed-sharing book canon fic 👀) will be in Oathkeepers fanzine, which will be available in October! You can find out more info on the zine at oathkeepersfanzine.tumblr.com.

As Brienne rode the familiar path to Le Lion D’or, she admired the changing colors of autumn. King’s Landing didn’t have much greenery, but there were parks and an occasional tree. Her home island terrain was naturally wild, with beaches, mountains, meadows and forest.

She took in a deep breath, savoring the cold air, and parked her bike in its usual location.

Jaime was already in the kitchen, organizing supplies for their cooking lesson. He had laid out a large slab of butter and several small saucepans.

“Good morning,” Brienne called to him after changing into her chef’s whites.

Jaime grunted in response. He was furiously going through the pantry.

With raised eyebrows, Brienne set her backpack on the floor and stood behind Jaime, peaking over his shoulder.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“We seem to be short on flour,” he grumbled. “Fucking flour! In a French restaurant!”

“I have some at my station we could use,” Brienne offered.

“No, you’ll need that for dinner,” Jaime said softly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “This is my fault. I’m sorry.”

Brienne tried to mask the surprise on her face at Jaime’s apology. He was not the type of man to admit mistakes.

“I was…distracted the last time I did inventory,” Jaime said with pained expression.

“Well, you can tell your supplier now that more flour is needed for the next shipment, which will be in two days,” Brienne said. “It’s all right, Jaime. It was an honest mistake. Everyone is entitled to them.”

Jaime shook his head with a small, bitter smile. Not Lannisters, he thought.

“I planned on making the mother sauces today,” he said. “We’ll have to make three of the five.”

Brienne nodded and took her place at the counter.

“There are five sauce bases from which almost all sauces are built. These are the mother sauces — béchamel, velouté, espagnole, hollandaise, and tomato.” Jaime explained. “All the mother sauces except for hollandaise are made using a roux.”

“Fat and flour,” Brienne added.

“Exactly,” Jaime said. “We need equal parts butter and flour for a roux.”

Taking one of the saucepans, Jaime added a cup of butter and brought it to the stove. He melted the butter over a gentle heat, and once the butter had melted, Brienne added a cup of flour to the saucepan. Jaime whisked as the roux emulsified, and a pleasant warm, nutty scent filled the kitchen.

“Béchamel is roux and dairy,” Jaime said as he continually whisked. “Add the milk — it’s on the counter.”

Brienne did as she was told and slowly poured the milk into the saucepan, while Jaime continued to stir. The creamy white sauce formed and thickened under the heat of the stove and Jaime’s practiced ministrations.

He took the sauce off the stove burner and held a spoonful of béchamel out to Brienne. She hesitantly tasted the sauce without taking the spoon from Jaime.Brienne smiled as the flavor enveloped her mouth. It was a simple cream sauce, but the rich fattiness of the butter and milk made Brienne want to slather the sauce over a plate of macaroni. A hum of pleasure escaped her lips. Brienne blushed at her own reaction and turned away from Jaime, who she suspected was smirking like a devil.

Brienne grabbed another saucepan, added a cup of butter, and handed it to Jaime.

“Velouté is made with roux and white stock,” he said as he swirled melting butter around the pan. “Our white stock is usually made with chicken, but it can be made with fish or vegetables.”

Brienne added a cup of flour to the saucepan as Jaime whisked, a blush still faintly on her cheeks.

“Velouté is the foundation for gravies, mushroom sauces and shrimp paste,” Jaime said. “Espagnol is made from roux and brown stock, which is typically beef or veal. Tomato sauce is roux plus cooked down tomatoes, though if we were an Italian restaurant we would ditch the roux.”

Brienne took a cup of chicken stock and poured it into the roux. Jaime continued to whisk away until the velouté fully formed. He offered Brienne another spoonful, and she accepted, though this time she was determined to keep silent.

The velouté didn’t have much of a flavor, but with additional meats and herbs it would make a fine gravy.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Jaime asked.

“Um, yes?”

“Well I haven’t, and we’re going to make hollandaise,” he said with a playful glint in his green eyes. “Can you poach an egg?”

“Yes, chef,” Brienne replied with a smile. “If we're making eggs benedict, then I can have a second breakfast.”

Brienne wasn’t a lover of breakfast foods, but she adored poached eggs.

Jaime returned her smile with one of his own, but it soon slid off his face as Tywin Lannister walked through the kitchen doors and up to the two of them.

Brienne kept a neutral expression on her face. She refused to be intimidated by the Lannister patriarch. Jaime didn’t bother hiding his disappointment.

“Good morning father,” Jaime said. “What brings you to Le Lion D’or?”

“I own half of this venue, I can drop by whenever I wish to,” Tywin answered cooly.

Jaime’s expression shifted from vague disappointment to outright annoyance. Though it wasn’t public knowledge, Tywin owned 51 percent of Le Lion D’or. In exchange for an interest free loan, Tywin Lannister was entitled to bring Casterly clients to the restaurant whenever he chose, for no charge. The restaurant was decorated to his tastes, remodeled at his whims, and 51 percent of the profits lined Tywin’s pockets.

The menu, thankfully, was in Jaime’s complete control.

“I need to speak with you, Jaime,” Tywin said, his cold stare lingering on Brienne. The two walked out of the kitchen, leaving Brienne alone with an uneasy feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach.

An unannounced visit from Tywin Lannister could not be a good sign.

The air in Jaime’s office was thick with tension as Tywin looked around it, unimpressed.

“I’ve looked into Miss Tarth,” he said as he ran a finger over the nearest surface and inspected the cleanliness of it. “She is from a small island near Shipbreaker Bay. She went to Dragonstone University on a full-ride athletic scholarship for track and field, and graduated with a bachelor's degree in medieval history. Her father, Selwyn Tarth, has Parkingson’s and requires a live-in nurse, and her mother is dead.”

With each fact Tywin listed, Jaime became more unsettled. Brienne didn’t mention much about her personal life, and Tywin’s research felt like a violation.

“And yet, none of these facts qualify her for a position at Le Lion D’or,” Tywin stated gruffly. “I will not have untrained people working here. Find someone else before any catastrophic failures happen.”

“I had the same reservations, but Brienne has continually proved her culinary skills,” Jaime said. “She is a damn good pastry chef. You should know that — you ate her canelés.”

“One dessert course is not a true measure of skill. Find some to replace that unfortunate-looking woman. I will not have it known that Le Lion D’or staff is not up to par.”

“No,” Jaime spat, eyes aflame.

“Excuse me?”

“No,” Jaime growled. “I will not replace her. She is the best chef I have worked with in years. She is staying.”

“Do it, or I will.”

Jaime angrily stormed out of his office, leaving his father with a tight-lipped expression. His fury softened like melting butter when returned to the kitchen and found Brienne preparing the ingredients for eggs benedict.

“Is everything all right?” she asked him quietly.

“Yes,” Jaime said. “No matter what my father says, you are staying at Le Lion D’or. I want you in my kitchen.”

Brienne’s eyes widened with shock. Tywin wanted to fire her? She knew that she didn’t have a culinary degree or formal training, but Jaime had given her a chance. Surely his father could do the same?

The thought of leaving her position as pastry chef tugged her heart into her stomach. She was finally making her stride in the kitchen, and Jaime and herself had settled into a comfortable routine that she hoped was a tentative friendship.

She blushed again and kept her eyes fixed on the eggs in front of her.

“I...I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Good,” he said, ending the conversation with a tiny smile.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they made breakfast. Jaime sliced thick cuts of Canadian bacon from a slab of smoked pork, while Brienne brought water to a boil. As the meat popped and sizzled, two teaspoons of white vinegar were added to the boiling water.

Brienne lowered the heat to a bare simmer, then took an egg, cracked it into a small bowl, and slipped it into the simmering water. The egg floated to the surface of the water and slowly began to solidify. She then added a second egg to the water, and when that began to cook she added a third and a fourth.

With the bacon browned on both sides, Jaime laid out the slices to dry on a paper towel. The familiar scent of cooked bacon wafted through the kitchen. It brought a smile to both Jaime and Brienne’s lips.

Jaime sliced two English muffins in half and toasted them until the edges were crisped and brittle. A slice of Canadian bacon was placed on each half.

Turning off the stove, Brienne took the delicate poached eggs out of the pot one by one and set them on top of the bacon.

“We’re going to make the hollandaise in the blender,” Jaime said.

Brienne feigned shock. “Jaime Lannister taking a shortcut? I’d never thought I would see the day.”

“You tart,” he laughed.

Jaime melted a generous portion of butter and poured three egg yolks, a tablespoon of lemon juice and a pinch of salt into the blender. The ingredients were blended until the yellow egg yolks lightened in color, which only took about 30 seconds. Turing the blender to the lowest setting, he slowly dribbled in the hot liquid butter, watching the sauce incorporate together seamlessly.

“Hollandaise is made with butter, egg yolk and acid,” Jaime explained.

He poured the hollandaise onto each stack, coating the towers with the creamy sauce. A pinch of paprika and finely chopped parsley on top, and the eggs benedict was complete.

Brienne offered a fork and knife to Jaime.

“Bon appétit,” he said with a flourish, and they both dug into their meal.

The yolk of the poached egg seasoned the bacon and English muffin with a sweet musk. The smokey Canadian bacon and hollandaise added savoriness, while the English muffin upheld its crisp texture against the soft eggs and sauce.

It was delicious. It was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who didn't catch it, Jaime was distracted by Cersei's phone call the last time he did inventory.
> 
> I'm glad I was able to get this chapter up. I try to upload once a week, but life gets in the way sometimes.
> 
> Mother Sauces  
> <https://food52.com/blog/12209-the-five-mother-sauces-every-cook-should-know>
> 
> Eggs Benedict recipe  
> <https://www.simplyrecipes.com/recipes/eggs_benedict/>
> 
> I'm bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr.


	10. Macarons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this chapter couldn't have been completed without lewispanda.

“Come over tonight, Bri,” Margaery said over the phone. “We haven’t had a girls’ night in so long, and…I want you to meet someone.”

“You’re dating somebody?” Brienne asked, trying not to sound too shocked by Margery’s words. For as long as Brienne had known her, Margaery abstained from relationships. That hadn’t stopped her from dating, fucking, or enjoying someone’s company. She just preferred things to be strictly causal.

“I’ve been seeing this girl for a couple of months, and it just sort of developed. I woke up next to her one morning, and she called me her girlfriend and that was it. We have been keeping it under wraps because her family doesn’t know, but she’s going to tell them soon.”

“That’s great, Marg,” Brienne said with fondness. “I’ll come over. I just can’t stay too late.”

“Oh, thank you Bri! And bring some of your macarons!” she exclaimed as she hung up.

“Marg…” Brienne sighed in exasperation as she looked at her blank phone screen.

She was demanding, but Brienne loved Margaery like the sister she wished she had. She had been an immense comfort after Hyle Hunt had humiliated her at Dragonstone, even going as far as threatening him publicly. Margaery was barely 5 and a half feet tall, but she was a category 5 hurricane when provoked.

Fierce loyalty was a trait shared by both women. It brought them together and kept them from falling apart.

As Brienne went through her pantry for ingredients, she thought of her morning with Jaime. Her cheeks burned at the memory of what they both had said.

_I don’t want to be anywhere else._

It was true. Their mornings together were now a part of Brienne’s routine. The thought of no longer seeing Jaime every day made her feel strangely uncomfortable. Sure, he teased her and did frustrating things, like drinking with Addam before a shift or leaving extra dishes for Gendry to clean - but he also took the time to reassure Podrick about his plating and compliment Jon and Sam on their hospitality. He devoted six mornings a week to teaching Brienne French culinary technique and never complained or came late. He was always there, waiting with a smirk on his unfairly beautiful face.

Brienne squeezed her eyes shut, willing away Jaime’s visage from her mind.

Focus, she thought. Flawless macarons were difficult to produce, and she didn’t need to be thinking of her handsome boss instead of this dish.

Brienne organized her confectioners’ sugar, almond flour, egg whites, salt, cream of tartar, mint extract, and superfine sugar. She decided upon green gel food coloring to match the mint flavor she would impose.

The oven was preheated to 300 degrees Fahrenheit, and three baking sheets were lined with silicone mats. Brienne combined her confectioners’ sugar and almond flour in a bowl and whisked them together. She sifted this mix slowly through a fine-mesh sieve into a larger bowl. This task was time consuming, but well worth it. The extra care would ensure the smoothest cookies.

After beating large egg whites, cream of tartar and salt, Brienne gradually added the superfine sugar and continued to beat the batter until is was stiff and shiny.

The egg white blend was transferred into the bowl containing the sugar and almond flour. Brienne folded the two mixes together with a rubber spatula. Next, she took the green food coloring and added it to the bowl, constantly stirring with steady hands. 

She stirred until the batter was smooth and fell off the spatula in a thin, flat ribbon.

Transferring the batter into a pastry bag, she piped tiny circles on the baking sheets, which were tapped firmly against the counter to release any air bubbles.

Brienne let the cookies sit at room temperature for a half hour, then gently poked a cookie. The top was no longer sticky, which meant it was ready to bake. Another baking sheet was slipped under the first one to protect the delicate cookies from the heat of the oven.

She baked the first batch until each cookie rose to one-eighth inch and was as shiny as morning dew. As they cooled, the second batch was baked.

When both sides of the macarons were finished baking and cooling, Brienne made the white chocolate mint filling.

Chopped white chocolate, heavy cream and butter were melted in Brienne’s microwave in 30 second intervals. Once the filling was smooth, mint extract was incorporated, as well as a single drop of green food coloring.

Brienne then piped the filling onto the bottoms of her macarons and lightly placed a cookie on top, creating a stunning cookie sandwich that left her mouth watering.

The macarons were plated in a cupcake carrier, and Brienne called a taxi to take her to Margaery’s midtown apartment.

It was already late into the night when Brienne arrived. She made a deal with herself to skip her morning workout at Stormlands and sleep in. The gym would have to wait until the afternoon.

She felt oddly nervous as she rang her friend’s doorbell. Please, let this girl be kind to Marg, she silently prayed.

The door swung open and Margaery Tyrell stood in the threshold with a large smile that displayed her perfect, white teeth. She hurried Brienne in and led her to the living room.

_Legally Blonde_ was playing on an obnoxiously large flat screen television. A petite woman with the loveliest red hair Brienne had ever seen was curled up on the sofa, completely enraptured by the movie.

She was young - couldn’t have been more than 19.

“Brienne is here,” Margaery said to her.

The redhead turned toward the two women and broke into a big smile. She jumped off the couch and immediately embraced Brienne, whose eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at this intimate gesture from a stranger.

“Marg has told me so much about you!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I am so happy to finally meet _the_ Brienne! I have been bugging Marg for months to introduce me to her friends.”

Brienne couldn’t help but smile at the young woman’s enthusiasm.

She finally released Brienne, then stuck out her right hand for a proper introduction.

“I’m Sansa,” she said as they shook hands. “Sansa Stark.”

“Brienne Tarth. It’s nice to meet you too, Sansa.”

“Brienne brought a treat for all of us,” Margaery said, displaying the mint macarons.

Sansa’s eyes shined with delight. “Oh, I love macarons. Thank you so much.”

“Brienne makes the best patisserie in King’s Landing,” Margaery stated like it was an absolute fact.

“No I don’t,” Brienne replied quickly, a blush creeping down her neck.

“ _Yes_ , you do. She works at Le Lion D’or as the pastry chef. You can’t get more elite than that!”

“Oh, how funny, my cousin works there too,” Sansa said.

“What?” Margaery and Brienne both asked in surprise.

“Jon Snow. He’s a waiter there, I think.”

“Small world,” Brienne commented, a small smile on her thick lips.

The three women talked through the rest of the movie with ease, almost as if they had all been friends for years instead of hours. They spoke of their families, their college years, their current careers, and their latest struggles. The laughter they all shared made Brienne’s heart soar.

Perhaps, this could be a new tradition? The three of them on Thursday nights - pretending to watch a movie while they laugh and drink and commiserate.

Sansa was sweet, and Margaery was happy. They were stupidly, hopelessly in love and it was obvious for Brienne. She hoped they would realize it soon, too. 

Her friend deserved happiness. We all do, she thought wistfully.

Brienne popped the last macaron into her mouth. The cool mint and sweet white chocolate filling worked in harmony with the soft yet crunchy cookies that tasted faintly of almonds. It was refreshing and mouth-watering at the same time.

She let her eyes close as she savored the flavor.

Macarons were difficult, like Margaery, but they were without a doubt Brienne’s favorite dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JB week is only a few days away! I've been busy creating something for it so keep your eyes peeled.
> 
> Macaron recipe  
> <https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchen/french-macarons-3362691>
> 
> I'm bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr.


	11. Boeuf Bourguignon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy JB week! I'll be posting my fic on Friday for the "snowed in" prompt.
> 
> Shout out to my beta lewispanda! Thank you for all your help! Also, thank you glamafonic for helping me name the Westerosi equivalent of Playboy.

Jaime Lannister had a morning routine. He woke up, hits the snooze button, and then woke up again. He did several pull-ups on the bar hanging from his closet door and 25 perfect push-ups. This was followed by a light breakfast. Then he run – 1 mile to Red Keep Park and 1 mile back to his apartment. A shower and a change of clothes completed his morning ritual.

Jaime forewent it that  Friday morning. He woke up with a brick of anxiety in his stomach.

The argument over Brienne with Tywin was still fresh in his mind, plus his father was brining Oberyn Martell to Le Lion D’or that night. The last time Oberyn had been at the restaurant he had complained openly about everything from the décor to the food Jaime had painstakingly planned. The thought of dealing with the Dornish businessman again gave Jaime a headache, and thinking of confronting his father for a second time made his gut twist.

Tywin was the majority shareholder in the restaurant. Eventually, he would get his way. He always did.

Arguments with Tywin Lannister were fruitless, but the urge to protect Brienne from his father’s unfair criticisms remained strong in Jaime’s heart. Brienne was an incredible chef; he couldn’t recall the last time someone had surprised him like she had, and the complementary dynamic between them could not be denied.

Jaime and Brienne worked well together. With proper guidance, she could easily rise to the upper ranks of the gourmet world.

With a deep, calming breath Jaime called a taxi and began to mentally prepare for the day.

His morning with Brienne passed quickly, and the afternoon slipped by unnoticed as Jaime answered emails and did necessary administrative work. Soon it was time to prepare dinner.

“Do not worry Jaime – Pia and I will soothe any tensions between your father and Mr. Martell,” Shae assured him as she assembled her harp in the parlor. “It is impossible to be in a foul mood when we play. Tyrion can attest to that!”

Jaime hoped he had not made a mistake asking Shae and Pia to perform. Both women were guaranteed to attract the wandering eyes of Oberyn Martell, which was the point. Dinner needed to be a visual odyssey for the Dornishman. Oberyn was the kind of man who ate with his eyes first – in more than one respect.

“Relax, Jaime,” Pia practically purred; she was also in the process of setting up a massive harp. “Tonight will unfold like silk.”

The two women were dressed in identical pink Grecian-style dresses that accentuated their best features. Golden laurels in their dark hair glittered as they reflected ambient lighting.

Jaime mumbled in agreement and gave Addam a knowing look. The bartender swiftly poured two shots of whiskey and handed one to the chef.

“May this evening go down as smoothly as this liquor,” Addam quipped before draining his glass. Jaime unceremoniously downed his own shot.

Brienne frowned at him, her disapproval evident.

“Pour one for Tarth,” Jaime told Addam. “She needs to loosen up.”

Her frown deepened. “No, thank you, Addam.” She took Jaime by his forearm and briskly led him back to the kitchen. 

“No need to get handsy,” Jaime teased and gave her a wink. She gave him a deadpan expression but softened once she realized how uneasy Jaime actually was.

It was unlike him, and that worried her.

“I’m nervous too,” she blurted out after a moment of silence had passed between them.

“We’re going to start a new trend tonight,” Jaime said as he gave Brienne’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“I doubt many people will want spicy French food.”

“If anyone could pull it off – it would be us.”

Brienne chuckled and finally left for her pastry station. The dessert course for that night was fig tarts – something sweet to cut the heat of the plat principal.

Sandor had already prepared their shared station and was seasoning a large slab of beef shoulder with kosher salt, pepper and ground cayenne.

Jaime grabbed a Dutch oven and heated one-fourth cup of olive oil. Once the oil began to shimmer, he seared cuts of beef until all sides were well browned. He was careful to not add too many slices of beef to the Dutch oven at once - overcrowding the pot would lower the temperature and the desired brown coloring of the meat would be impossible.

After each piece was seared and removed, Jaime added onions to the pot and cooked them until they became soft and golden. Then, he sprinkled flour over the onions and stirred gently with a wooden spoon. Red burgundy was added to the pot after.

Once the wine was brought to a boil, Jaime returned the cuts of beef to the pot to marinate. He also added carrots, garlic, ajwain, bouquet garni, and water to the dish. It was brought to a boil again, and then reduced to a simmer.

Jaime let the boeuf bourguignon cook uncovered until the meat was tender enough to break apart with a fork. Every 20 minutes Sandor would check the dish, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pot to make sure nothing was sticking to the surface or scorching on the heat.

Tasting a spoonful of the hearty stew, Jaime was unsatisfied. His previous attempts at the dish produced fine results, but looming presence of Tywin made him unsure of his recipe.

It needed an alternation. The spice was there, but it didn’t make his lips tingle or even enhance the rich meatyness of the beef. The dish needed to be a giant middle finger.

“Tarth, come taste this,” he ordered.

Brienne set down the tray of tarts in her hand and came over to Jaime, who held out a spoonful of the boeuf bourguignon to her. She inhaled its scent before tasting.

“It smells good, but not inviting,” she said. “We want the scent of spices to surprise and entice a guest to try something they never even thought of eating before. It needs something more aromatic.” She lit up, eyes bright and wide. “Oh! Clove and saffron! That would do the trick. Maybe add a few drops of chili oil to amp up the heat of the dish too.”

Jaime beamed at Brienne proudly. “Excellent suggestion, thank you.”

She smiled in return and went back to her station, blushing. Jaime incorporated her suggestions into the dish then tasted it again. The spices worked in harmony with the richness of the beef, creating a flavor that he had never tasted before in French cuisine. It was unexpected and delighted Jaime into near giddiness.

He almost floated through the kitchen as he finished his tasks. We’ve outdone ourselves, he thought and smiled to himself.

Bronn interrupted Jaime’s good mood to warn him that Oberyn was on his fifth glass of Dornish strongwine and to watch his ass when he made an appearance at their table.

After washing his hands, Jaime motioned for Brienne to follow him out into the dinning room. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise then furrowed in confusion.

“Come on Tarth, we don’t have all night.”

She reluctantly followed Jaime out of the kitchen. The heavenly sound of delicately plucked harp strings drifted through the dining room.

Brienne’s eyes were immediately drawn to Pia and Shae. They were playing a song that sounded suspiciously like Smooth Criminal. Tyrion was at the table closest to the musicians and was watching them with pure adoration, wine in hand.

The first table Jaime and Brienne stopped at was occupied by Petyr Baelish and a much younger woman in a tight designer dress. It took a moment, but Brienne recognized Petyr from the Wench magazines Hyle would leave around his apartment.

Petyr greeted them with a weasley smile.

“Baelish, I’m glad to see that you’re back in King’s Landing,” Jaime said with warmth that Brienne could tell was ingenuine.

“Essos was a nice distraction, but work calls,” Petyr replied.

Jaime smiled. “It always does.”

Petyr’s eyes drifted to Brienne, raking up and down her imposing figure. His gaze made Brienne uncomfortable, but she refused to slouch.

“This is Chef Tarth,” Jaime told Petyr and his date. “She helped develop the plat principal tonight. She also made the dessert course.”

Brienne awkwardly smiled.

“I’ve never had something like that before,” the woman said in a thick Braavosi accent. “I liked it.”

“Yes, I didn’t think Le Lion D’or was the type of place to experiment with its menu, but you know how enjoy the exotic.”

“Thank you,” Brienne told them, not sure what else to say.

“Enjoy the rest of your meal,” Jaime added as he gently led Brienne to another table.

He greeted every table with a suaveness Brienne didn’t know he possessed. Sure, he could be cocky, arrogant, rude, playful, endearing, funny...but smooth? Jaime was as abrasive as steel wool.

Who is this Jaime, Brienne wondered. There was a small part of her that wanted to know all the facets of him.

The last table they came to was Tywin’s. Nerves caused Brienne to bite at her bottom lip.

“Father, Oberyn, how was the meal?” Jaime asked.

“You have finally listened to someone with taste!” Oberyn exclaimed. “Your food is no longer as bland as paper. Is this the chef responsible?”

“Yes,” Jaime beamed as Tywin Lannister’s unamused face set into a frown. “Chef Tarth made this all possible.”

Brienne, who took compliments and criticism with equal trepidation, blushed deeply.

“Jaime is the true culinary genius,” she said. “Boeuf bourguignon was his idea.”

Tywin remained tight-lipped through the rest of their pleasantries, though his eyes held pure disdain. When Brienne and Jaime finally returned to the kitchen, they let out a collective sigh of relief.

“I think I’ll take that shot of whisky now,” Brienne teased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I altered an Anthony Bourdain recipe for this chapter. Normally, French food is rich, fatty or sweet. Spice is not something you will find. I thought about what spices/herbs would add heat while also pairing with beef. I ended up using Indian flavors. Indian food definitely doesn't use beef, so this recipe is a total Frankenstein creation lol. My second choice would have been using Sichuan flavors.
> 
> Boeuf Bourguignon recipe  
> <https://www.washingtonpost.com/recipes/anthony-bourdains-boeuf-bourguignon/7859/>
> 
> French Fig Tart recipe  
> <https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/french-fig-tarts-6601378>
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: bussdowntarthiana


	12. Lemon Butter Sole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️NSFW warning for this chapter.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you lewispanda!!!! You're the best beta.

“You’re improving,” Jaime said as he and Brienne finished cutting a mountain of celery and carrots.

She scoffed but smiled. Brienne knew she would never be as talented as Jaime when it came to wielding a blade. She could be proficient, even great with diligent practice, but Jaime held an otherworldly talent.

“It’s true,” he pushed. “You _are_ getting better – a far cry from where you were when you walked into my kitchen for the first time and stared me down.”

“For good reason,” Brienne said.

Jaime laughed. “Yes, I suppose so.”

The two had made quick work of the vegetables and had finished earlier than expected. Normally, they wouldn’t be cooking on a Sunday, but Jaime had needed a large amount of vegetable stock for Monday’s dinner, and Brienne had volunteered to help him. Tyrion had left after the menu was solidified to meet Shae and Pia.

“Fancy a drink?” Jaime asked Brienne. “I had plans to go to White Tower after we finish here.”

Brienne thought for a moment. “Sure,” she said hesitantly. “Let me get my things.”

White Tower was a bar known for cheap, bottom shelf liquor and 24/7 hours of operation. She had been dragged there a few times by the Tyrell siblings and Renly. It was not the kind of place she could imagine Jaime in. In fact, she had a hard time imagining him anywhere but Le Lion D’or. The man seemed to live there.

Though, there was that unfortunate meeting at Death and Axes.

A public scolding from her boss was the last thing a buzzed Brienne had wanted then. She could still remember how her arm had burned from his touch as he led her through the noisy venue, how the heat of his hand seemed to radiate through her entire body.

Brienne shivered. Where had that come from?

“You all right, Tarth?”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled.

From the outside, the bar was unassuming. A worn storefront with a large, black-tinted window displayed the name of the bar in hand-painted script with “Always Open, Always Pouring” underneath.

Inside, White Tower was dimly lit and smelled of alcohol and lemon all-purpose cleaner. Sports memorabilia and Polaroids of patrons covered the walls. String lights wrapped around the bar and through the shelving showcasing its liquor selection. It was down-home, unpretentious – working class even. A proper Lannister would not be within 100 feet of this place.

The barkeep greeted them with a smile. “Hey there, Jaime.”

“Two pints of Arbor Gold please, Davos,” Jaime said. “Put them on my tab.”

“You know you have to close your tab eventually, son.”

“But today is not that day! Next week, I promise,” Jaime said with a devilish wink.

Davos shook his head and sighed, then poured two pint glasses full of beer and brought them to Jaime and Brienne, who were sitting at the far end of the bar.

Brienne thanked him and introduced herself. Davos had a kind smile, and his Eastern accent reminded Brienne of home.

Jaime enthusiastically chugged half of his beer, while Brienne tried and failed to not giggle at how ridiculous he was being. The tip of his nose was covered in beer foam, and a tiny trickle of the liquid dripped down the corners of his mouth.

“I didn’t know you were a regular here,” Brienne said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“I’m usually here on Sunday, or after a particularly grueling dinner service.”

“But you have access to some of the finest wines in Westeros! Why come to a place that has dollar vodka shots?”

“Sure, I could raid the wine cellar or have Addam make me a fancy cocktail, but Le Lion D’or doesn’t have beer.”

“I...didn’t take you for a beer lover,” Brienne said. Her cheeks were flushed. She hoped Jaime would attribute it to the alcohol.

“When I’m feeling like shit I want a tall, cold beer,” Jaime chuckled.

The two shared a smile and another pint. Jaime told her of the early days at Le Lion D’or when he had been all talent and no business acumen. Brienne countered with her best fishing stories. 

The day slipped by without much notice.

When Davos interrupted their conversation with a phone call from Tyrion, Brienne said her goodbyes and slipped out of White Tower.

Damn, it’s already 7, she thought with a groan. Brienne had planned on making herself dinner and binge watching the latest historical drama from Netflix. This one was set in the Age of Heroes, a topic Brienne was intimately familiar with. A large chunk of her undergraduate research had been focused on myths and legends from that time.

Resigning herself to only watching one episode while she ate, Brienne gathered ingredients for her meal. Her fish tales made Brienne crave seafood.

She scrubbed a handful of kipfler potatoes and cleaned four sole fillets — cutting the skin, trimming the fins, and chopping heads off the fish.

The potatoes were added to a pot with water and set to boil over medium heat while the oven preheated. The fish were dusted with flour, massaged with olive oil, and then grilled two at a time in a large char-grill pan over high heat. The last step for the sole was baking it in the oven for three minutes.

When the potatoes became tender, Brienne drained them and sliced thickly, before she sautéed them in olive oil until they became deliciously golden.

Once the fish and potatoes were done, Brienne moved on to the dish’s sauce. A generous portion of butter was heated until foaming. Capers, lemon juice and fresh parsley from Brienne’s small window-side herb garden were added to the sauce to finish it off.

She plated the sole and potatoes and spooned the warm lemon-butter sauce over both. The acidic scent of citrus danced with the richness of the butter, making Brienne’s mouth water.

She settled on the couch, placing her plate on the coffee table in front of her.

“Please have accurate costuming and dialogue,” Brienne prayed as she selected the first episode.

Digging into her meal, Brienne savored the mild taste of the fish and the brightness of the sauce. The outside of the sole was crisp but the inside was moist and tender. She made a mental note to cook more seafood. Back home, fish fries and seafood boils were commonplace. Brienne didn’t realize just how much she had missed it.

One episode became two, and two became three. With a blanket cocooned around her, Brienne’s eyes began to close as she surrendered to the warmth of her couch.

She was in her Dragonstone dorm room, lying back on her lumpy twin bed. Brienne’s arms were pinned above her head, and she felt the weight of another body press into her. A warm mouth sucked at her neck, causing her to moan with abandon.

“Renly,” she sighed.

Brienne felt light-headed as she was kissed down her body. Suddenly, she was as naked as her nameday. Hot breath on her cunt and confident, gentle strokes of a tongue made Brienne shake with need.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she gazed upon the dark-haired man playing with her clit. But as soon as she did, Renly’s dark hair became a rich, golden hue and grew several inches. She could feel the scratch of stubble against her thighs as the licking became more vigorous.

Brienne thrust her hips against the assault, grunting with pleasure. She came with a gasp and the man between her legs stroked her through the waves of her orgasm.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he breathed.

Jaime Lannister grinned up at her, his chin wet with her arousal.

Brienne jolted awake.

“Fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are certainly heating up 🌶️ 
> 
> What did y'all think? I wanted to do a nod to Brienne's book dream sequence where Ronnet morphs into Jaime.
> 
> Grilled Sole recipe  
> <https://www.gourmettraveller.com.au/recipes/chefs-recipes/grilled-sole-with-lemon-capers-and-parsley-9026>
> 
> I'm bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr. I post sneak peaks of my writing there and worship Brienne.


	13. Gâteau aux Carottes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for help with this chapter!
> 
> Slightly NSFW

This was Brienne Tarth’s third cold shower of the week, and she hated it. Her dreams were plagued by her boss, and she often woke up with cold sweat, warm cheeks and an ache between her thighs only satiated by her experienced fingers.

It was rather tiresome.

It had been well over three years since her last sexual experience with another person, but Brienne managed. She didn’t have a wealth of experience, but what she had in the past was unspectacular. She didn’t  _ miss _ sex. Sure, she would have the occasional fantasy – she was a woman grown – but this was starting to rival her teen years when she first discovered her shower head was removable.

Brienne briskly biked to the restaurant, her damp hair flying in the cold air. Autumn had come and gone without much notice, and winter had settled into King’s Landing with a lion’s roar. A nasty snow storm had banished any remaining leaves and blanketed the city in snow. It was almost beautiful, Brienne thought as icy wind stung her face. If only the clouds would part for sunshine.

Shivering, Brienne quickly shed her clothes and changed into her chef’s whites – technically Jaime’s chef’s whites. He had never asked for the uniform back, and when Brienne had left it washed and folded in his office, she had found it on top of her locker later that night.

“How can you bike in the snow, Tarth?” Jaime asked Brienne as soon as she entered the kitchen.

“I don’t have a car,” she said nonchalantly. “Cabs everyday is a waste of money, plus the sidewalks here are almost always plowed.”

“You look like a frozen dinner. Do you even have a winter coat?”

“I layer.”

Jaime frowned at her. Brienne ignored him, but his concern made her blush.

“Pod, can you help me wash carrots?” Brienne asked.

Podrick nodded eagerly, and the two began to wash and peel in tandem. The menu that night was created with the Tyrells in mind. Margaery and Loras had finally fulfilled their promise of a visit with help from their grandmother, Olenna.

The plat principal of the evening was ratatouille  — a simple vegetable dish that Jaime planned to arrange into blooming roses. The presentation was perfect for the Tyrells, but left Brienne with unpleasant memories.

She  _ hated  _ roses.

A French-style carrot cake was the paired dessert course. Brienne preferred her carrot cake with decadent cream cheese frosting, but these cakes would be sweetened by the carrots alone. 

After washing, peeling and finely grating, the carrots were ready. Brienne set out the rest of her ingredients for the recipe  — sugar, salt, eggs, toasted almonds, and flour.

As the oven preheated, Brienne rubbed butter into the sides of two shallow cake pans and lined their bottoms with parchment paper. She beat a few sticks of room temperature butter with sugar and salt until it was smooth. Once it was done, she tasted the mix to ensure her proportions were correct.

They were, Brienne noted with a small smile.

Taking a food processor back to her counter top, Brienne pulverized almonds and flour until they had a fine, but not powdery, texture. 

Eggs were beaten with a wooden spoon and her strong arms one at a time. Then she added the nut and flour mix to the eggs, along with the finely shredded carrots and stirred until the batter was smooth.

The batter was divided evenly into the two cake pans and put in the oven to bake for 40 minutes. Brienne inserted a toothpick into the center of both cakes before she took them out of the oven to cool. Both times it came out without any lingering batter, indicating that the cakes were finished baking.

When they were properly cooled, Brienne released them from the cake pans carefully and cut the dessert into smaller pieces for plating.

The gâteau aux carottes was garnished with a dollop of mascarpone and edible flowers that brought tiny bursts of color to the food. It was a beautifully simple dish, and Brienne was proud of her work.

Olenna would love it. She had very particular and demanding tastes. Eccentric was a polite descriptor for the woman.

When Margaery had first introduced Brienne to her grandmother, she had been terrified. She had just beaten Loras in a 100 meter dash, and he had not been taking it well.

“My word!” Olenna had proclaimed. “Aren't you just marvelous! Absolutely singular.”

Brienne had smiled wide enough to display her crooked teeth.

Jaime came to appraise Brienne’s work, admiring it from beside her.

“The flowers are a nice touch,” he said.

“Thank you,” she answered softly.

“You should come out with me. Say hello to your friends.”

“I’m seeing them tomorrow.”

“Ah, you’re embarrassed,” Jaime said with a smug smile that made Brienne’s cheeks burn.

“No...”

“Then come with me and bask in the compliments everyone is guaranteed to give.”

With an exasperated sigh, Brienne ignored her nerves and followed Jaime to the dining room to greet patrons.

Loras and Margaery smiled brightly at the two as they approached their table. Olenna ignored them and continued to daintily cut her ratatouille into small pieces.

“Bri!” Margaery greeted her. “The food is divine. I’m so glad we came.”

“I’m glad you are enjoying it,” Jaime said.

“We’re looking forward to the dessert,” Loras said, flirtation thick in his voice. He looked Jaime up and down appraisingly.

Brienne and Margaery shared a knowing look and both giggled.

“Brienne never disappoints,” Jaime said. “You’ll love what she made.”

“The girl has a gift,” Olenna remarked. “We are all giddy in anticipation.”

“Thank you,” Brienne mumbled while staring intently at her shoes.

“Chin up, Brienne,” Olenna scolded. “Let us admire you properly.”

Forcing her embarrassment to the side, Brienne met Olenna’s eyes. The older woman gave her a genuine smile, and Brienne couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from rising as well.

After the dinner service had concluded, Jaime slid a plate of the blooming ratatouille in front of Brienne.

“Can I interest you in a rose?” he asked playfully.

Brienne wrinkled her nose at the food.

“What? Don’t tell me you hate ratatouille,” Jaime said, mirth gone from his voice.

“It’s not that,” she sighed. “I just...hate roses.”

Jaime looked from her to the plate of food. He took a fork and knife and rearranged the vegetables from a flower shape into a neat square, then gave her another set of silverware so the two could eat the dish together.

It was warm and comforting, savory and salty.

When Brienne lay in her bed that night she thought of how Jaime’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and how happy he looked when he was laughing. He was so handsome; far too handsome for her.

Surely there was no harm in fantasizing about a man she would never have, even if he was her employer. Jaime Lannister would never be interested in Brienne Tarth.

Her hand slid down the front of her sweatpants. She slowly circled her clit, imagining it was Jaime’s hands bringing her pleasure.

He was as beautiful as he was unattainable; Brienne’s heart would remain safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winter has come...
> 
> Ratatouille recipe  
> <https://food52.com/recipes/49611-ratatouille-in-bloom>
> 
> Gâteau aux Carottes recipe  
> <https://www.davidlebovitz.com/carrot-cake-fre/>
> 
> bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr


	14. Buche de Noel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for being my beta!!!!!!!!!

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Margaery sighed into the phone. “Sansa is going back to Winterfell to see her family, I’m stuck in the Reach, and Loras is already with Renly back east.”

“I thought about going home to see my dad, but I have to work on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day…” Brienne said as she laid across her bed.

“Oh, Bri. That sucks.” Brienne could hear the pout in Margaery’s voice, and it made her smile.

“That’s the service industry for you,” she lamented. “Jaime is having a party after work on Christmas Eve for Le Lion D’or staff. I might go to that.”

Margaery squealed in delight. “You _have_ to go!”

“I’ll probably be tired after the dinner shift,” Brienne argued.

“So? You need to live a little, Bri. Do it for me! The only fun I’m having in the next 10 days will consist of playing bridge with my grandmother.”

Brienne let out a deep sigh. “Maybe.”

In the end, it was Jaime’s pestering that made Brienne reluctantly confirm her attendance at the restaurant’s Christmas party.

She was regretting her decision as she frantically prepared 25 Yule logs. Each buche de noel was to be painstakingly decorated to resemble winter tree bark, complete with fondant mushrooms, real mistletoe and powdered sugar snow.

Podrick and Brienne had spent two days on the fondant creations, delicately painting on them using food coloring. Brienne’s fingers ached from the detail work.

Christmas Eve dinner at Le Lion D’or was legendary. Only the most elite of King’s Landing society were able to secure a reservation. The restaurant went all out in Christmas refinery. Multiple evergreens draped in twinkling silver and gold lights were placed throughout the parlor. Ornaments of clear crystal adorned their branches, catching and reflecting the light in a hypnotizing fashion.

The centerpieces upon the dining room tables were impressive and eye-catching, with arrangements of holly, mistletoe, pine cones and lush winter roses flown in from the north. Jon, Sam and Bronn had complemented the decorations with boutonnières of the blue flowers.

Jaime had joked that Brienne’s eyes made her match too.

This year, Shae and Pia entertained patrons with sensual renditions of Christmas classics on their harps. The two were booked more frequently by Le Lion D’or during the holidays. Tyrion and Shae were still sickeningly sweet with each other, which made Jaime annoyed but ultimately happy for his brother.

Pia had several failed attempts at seducing Jaime before she settled on Addam, who was more than happy to be the recipient of her affections. Brienne had walked in on them furiously kissing in the wine cellar a few days prior. Somehow she was more embarrassed at the situation than either of them were.

The plat principal for the night was coquilles Saint-Jacques, a poached scallop dish perfect for a French Christmas feast. Brienne had hoped that there would be leftovers. She and Jaime had developed a habit of sharing a dish after dinner service. It had become the thing she looked forward to the most at work.They would discuss the latest food trends, debate gossip, and share stories from the past over hot food and decadent desserts.

It lacked the element of the teacher-pupil dynamic, that was there in the mornings – it was just them, enjoying a meal.

Spending most of her days and nights with Jaime nursed her tentative crush into a longing that made her heart ache as their thighs touched whenever Jaime sat too close to her - which had been happening more often lately. The little personal boundaries he seemed to have when they had first met had completely disappeared. He would often stand closer than was socially acceptable, causing their shoulders to bump or hands to brush; he was always leaning in close to her when she spoke. It both thrilled and embarrassed her.

Brienne thought he would brush up against her like a touch-starved cat if he could.

As the oven preheated to 375 degrees Fahrenheit, Brienne lined jellyroll pans with parchment paper. Heavy cream, confectioners’ sugar, unsweetened cocoa powder and a single teaspoon of vanilla extract were whipped together in a large bowl until the filling became stiff, then it was placed in the refrigerator to cool.

Brienne used an electric mixer to beat egg yolks with sugar. When the mix became thick and pale, she added cocoa, salt and vanilla extract, just like she had done for the filling.

Taking another large glass bowl and clean beaters, Brienne whipped egg whites into soft peaks. By gradually adding a fourth cup of sugar, the egg whites hardened. The yolk mixture was then immediately folded into the egg whites.

The batter was evenly spread into prepared pans and baked in the oven for 13 minutes. To judge whether the cakes were cooked, Brienne poked each one of them. When they bounced back lightly against her finger, she knew they were done.

Taking a clean dish towel, Brienne dusted it with confectioners’ sugar. She ran a knife around the edge of the first jellyroll pan, then turned the warm cake out onto the towel. Discarding the parchment paper on the bottom of the cake, Brienne began rolling up the cake in the towel, starting at the short edge.

She repeated this for all her cakes and let them cool for half an hour.

After the time was up, Brienne unrolled them. She took the filling out of the refrigerator and spread it on the inside of the cakes. Then, she rerolled each buche de noel.

They were plated seam side down and chilled again.

She easily made chocolate icing using the leftover cocoa powder and sugar and iced the cakes with expert hands. Podrick helped her place the fondant mushrooms and mistletoe on each creation.

The final step was to sprinkle sugar over the plates to create the illusion of snow.

Brienne looked over her work and couldn’t help but smile to herself. What they made was truly impressive – something worthy of Christmas Eve dinner at Le Lion D’or.

“I’ll be happy if I never have to work with fondant again,” Podrick said from beside Brienne.

“Oh it’s not so bad,” Brienne laughed. “Have I scared you away from pâtisserie?”

“For the time being,” he admitted.

“Are you going to Jaime’s tonight?” Brienne changed the topic.

“Oh yeah, almost everyone goes. It’s the best party I go to all year.”

Brienne was surprised by his words.

“You’ve never worked at a restaurant before have you?” he asked.

“No…”

“There is a reason that industry people are known as hard partiers,” he said with a chuckle. “The whole staff can finally cut loose and not have to worry about holiday business for a night. Jaime supplies all the liquor and food. It’s really incredible – the spread is insane. You should go, Brienne. We’d miss you if you didn’t.”

She blushed and mumbled that she would see him there.

Podrick left her with a smile to complete his side work. The servers were taking out the last of the cakes when Jaime approached her.

“No time for our dinner tonight, I’m afraid,” he said. “I have to set up for the party.”

Brienne masked her disappointment and shook her head in agreement.

“See you there, Tarth,” he said with a wink and promptly left the kitchen.

Her stomach turned. Could she be around him intoxicated and not constantly think about how much she wanted to kiss him?

I only have to be there for an hour, two at max, she thought nervously.

As she packed up her things, Brienne noticed a small Tupperware dish on top of her locker. A pink sticky note was attached to the lid. It read:

> _Enjoy this one for me._
> 
> _-Jaime_

Inside the container was a single gratinéed scallop on a shell. Brienne could smell the rich white wine the scallop was cooked in, along with the mushrooms and Gruyère underneath. It was topped with a single tarragon leaf.

She grabbed a fork from the kitchen and ate the scallop in a single bite. Sweetness combined on her tongue with fatty richness and hints of acidic lemon.

It was so good that for a brief moment, Brienne forgot how nervous she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a Jaime POV~
> 
> Coquilles Saint-Jacques recipe  
> <https://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Classic-Gratineed-Scallops/>
> 
> Buche de Noel recipe  
> <https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/17345/buche-de-noel/>
> 
> bussdowntarthiana on Tumblr


	15. Escargots à la Bourguignonne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for helping me!
> 
> NSFW content in this chapter

Jaime turned his phone off with a frown. Cersei had called again, but this time she had left a voicemail after he hadn’t picked up. He hadn’t had the heart to listen to it then; he needed to finish organizing the finger food for the Le Lion D’or Christmas party.

Plus, Brienne was going to be in his apartment for the first time.

Caviar, foie gras and raw oysters were arranged on shining silver platters. An obscene amount of champagne was poured in flutes, ready for drinking.

The final dish — escargots à la Bourguignonne — would make the penthouse smell like a garlicky heaven.

After preheating the oven, Jaime minced cloves of garlic with a heavy knife into a paste and seasoned it with salt. Then, he beat butter, shallots, garlic paste, parsley, salt and pepper in a small bowl with an electric mixer until all the ingredients combined well.

Dry, white wine was poured into the garlic butter slowly until it was seamlessly incorporated.

Snail shells were laid out in neat rows on shallow baking sheets. Kosher salt was spread across the baking sheets, and the shells were nestled into it. Jaime poured half the liquid garlic butter evenly into the shells. Then, he placed a snail into each shell and covered them with the remaining butter.

The escargots were cooked in the oven for six minutes. The butter sizzled as Jaime took them out and plated them.

The intense garlic scent enveloped his kitchen with undercurrent of rich butter. Jaime sighed in appreciation.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the first partygoers.

Addam, Pia, Tyrion and Shae rushed through the door and to Jaime’s kitchen. Addam and Tyrion were Le Lion D’or party veterans and knew where to find the booze, their first course for the evening.

Soon, Podrick and Gendry arrived, followed by Sam and Jon. Bronn appeared to already be drunk when he walked through the door and greeted Jaime. Sandor wordlessly let himself into the apartment and headed straight for the food.

Jaime watched his employees cut loose and imbibe with a smile. He knew how hard they worked — and played. He mingled among his guests for a while, reminding himself to not overindulge in alcohol.

After two hours of chugging champagne the party had evolved into a drunken rager. Bronn and Jon were arm wrestling while Sam and Addam screamed from the sidelines. Tyrion was sitting in Shae’s lap, looking adoringly at her as she stroked his hair and whispered in his ear. Gendry was animatedly talking on the phone, spewing love confessions and secrets, while Podrick made mountains of caviar on crackers and shoved them in his mouth. Sandor and Pia seemed to be in a debate over the best dog breed for city living.

Jaime was distracted from the chaos by the sudden presence of his pastry chef.

“Uh, sorry I’m late,” she said over the loud holiday music.

Addam rushed over to them with an uncorked bottle of champagne.

“Brienne!” he shouted. “Merry Christmas! Drink this!”

Brienne took the liquor from Addam, surveyed the drunken scene, and chugged straight from the bottle.

Brienne’s coworkers cheered as she drank. Jaime watched in amazement.

After a few good gulps, she set the bottle down and asked to use the bathroom. Jaime led her to his bedroom and left to check on the holiday revelry.

Thirty minutes passed, and Brienne remained in his room. Now worried, he came back to check on her.

She wasn’t in the bathroom, but outside on the balcony connected to his room. He suddenly felt like a nervous teen asking their crush to prom. When did my heart start to leap at the sight of her, Jaime wondered as he gazed at Brienne’s figure on the balcony.

He opened the sliding glass door and slipped next to Brienne, who didn’t acknowledge his sudden presence. She continued to stare out at the glittering city lights below.

“It’s so bright here at night,” she suddenly said softly. “You can’t see the stars.”

“The city is beautiful in its own way, I suppose,” he offered.

“Where I grew up, stars blanketed every corner of the sky,” Brienne sighed as her head dropped to rest on her arms. “You could hear the sea from my bedroom.”

This close to her, Jaime was able to observe the red flush of Brienne’s skin most likely caused by alcohol. Her lips parted slightly, and her tongue darted out to wet her plump bottom lip.

Jaime tore his eyes away from Brienne and focused on the King’s Landing cityscape.

“You’ve been here less than a year, but I’ve seen your technique improve tenfold,” he said.

Brienne chuckled, “Sure.”

“You have! I wouldn’t waste time teaching someone who wasn’t applying themself.”

“Why are you teaching me?” Brienne asked, suddenly serious.

Jaime cleared his throat. “When you applied for the position and made that gâteau St. Honoré...I haven't tasted anything like that in a long time. I see that you have the makings of a truly great chef. You’re edges just need a little sanding down and your technique needs refining, but if you keep improving at the rate you’re going, I can see you completely graduating from pastry and-”

“What do you mean by that?” Brienne asked sharply.

“You’ll be good enough that you won’t have to only be a pastry chef. You can move on to a more fitting position.”

“ _Only a pastry chef_? Jaime, I like being only a pastry chef.”

“Tarth, surely you can see how-”

“What’s wrong with pastry?”

“Nothing! I just think you can do better!” Jaime turned to face Brienne, frustration distorting his handsome face.

“You know, I didn’t take you for a snob, Jaime,” Brienne huffed. “I don’t want to be a sous chef or an executive chef. I _want_ to bake!”

“You stubborn woman!” Jaime exclaimed as he gripped Brienne’s shoulders. He leaned in close enough for their noses to touch.“You are the best damn chef I’ve witnessed in years!”

Jaime’s voice dropped as he whispered, “I see you as my protégé.”

Chest rising and falling with angered breath, Jaime stared into the blue expanse of Brienne’s eyes, which appeared to be more pupils than irises. Confusion and frustration showed on her homely face, but the expression melted away to unmistakable desire.

Jaime didn’t think; he closed the short distance between them with a bruising kiss. Brienne’s gasp was lost to his mouth as he slid his hands from her shoulders down to her hips. He could taste the alcohol on her tongue and feel her fingers shake as she raked them through his golden hair.

A low moan from Brienne sent a wave of shock down Jaime’s spine and blood rushed to his quickly hardening cock.

They broke apart briefly, both breathing heavily. Jaime’s eyes fluttered open, and he retreated from the balcony to his bedroom, taking Brienne with him by the hand.

“Close the door and come here,” he growled.

Beet red, Brienne replied “Yes, chef.”

This woman is going to be the end of me, Jaime thought.

Sliding glass door locked, curtains closed — Brienne was drawn back to Jaime, her eyes fixed on the floor. Taking her face into his hands, Jaime kissed her again. Her body was so warm pressed against his, it made it head spin.

Flush against each other, Jaime discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra and groaned at the realization. He dropped his hands to snake them under her shirt and around her muscular body. Brienne shuddered against him as Jaime’s fingers stroked her bare skin.

He watched her — enraptured — though heavy lids, peppering light kisses against her neck and collarbones. Together, they fell onto Jaime’s bed, Brienne pinned to the mattress by his weight.

“God, your body, Brienne,” he moaned, adjusting his hips against her so that she could feel his rigid length on her thigh. “You make me so hard.”

She responded with a gasp and a roll of her hips.

The flurry of kisses was like a fever dream to Jaime. Brienne was everywhere — her lips on his, her hands gripping his ass, her strong legs wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Jaime…”

They rutted against each other, seeking to quell the heat between their legs. Jaime gasped when a change of positions rubbed his aching cock the right way. Brienne, encouraged by his reaction, took the lead and thrust her hips against him again and again.

They both sighed in pleasure as they rubbed against each other with vigor. Jaime lifted Brienne’s shirt, exposing her pert breasts with hardened nipples. He plucked one with his fingers and sucked the other, switching between the two and causing Brienne to cry out in pained pleasure.

Jaime whispered praises and babbled incoherently into Brienne’s ear, chanting her name like it was a song.

“Brienne, Brienne, fuck — oh, Brienne…”

She surged forward and violently shook, screaming into Jaime’s shoulder, her cries of pleasure drowned out by the loud music from the party. Jaime came undone seconds later, orgasming hard into his jeans and underwear.

The two laid next to each other on the bed, panting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you be interested in a mood board of sorts with the recipes from Mise en Place? Let me know.
> 
> Escargots à la Bourguignonne recipe  
> <https://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/escargots-a-la-bourguignonne-233523>
> 
> Send me JB prompts on Tumblr: [bussdowntarthiana](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	16. Spiced Peanuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for betaing this!

“I...should change,” Jaime said with a sigh, avoiding direct eye contact with Brienne. He left the pastry chef laying on the bed as he entered his walk in closet.

Nervous thoughts began to snowball in Brienne’s mind. Should she leave? Will everyone be able to tell she kissed her boss? Oh god, she dry humped her boss.  _ Oh god, are her pants wet? _

She sprung off the bed and came face to face with her reflection in a large, antique mirror. Her hair was a tousled mess, her cheeks were bright red, her lips kiss-swollen and tiny pink marks covered her neck and collarbone – evidence of Jaime’s enthusiastic mouth.

I cannot be seen like this, she thought grimly.

A faded red hoodie draped across a chair caught her eye. She grabbed it and zipped up the jacket, pulling the hood over her unkempt hair and shadowing her features. The sound of rustling clothes from the closet set a panic in Brienne, and she fled Jaime’s bedroom.

The party was still raging on. She could hear Addam and Shea egging on Tyrion to chug a bottle of champagne. It was unlikely the others heard their cries of pleasure minutes before.

Brienne grabbed her wallet and keys and slipped out the door into the night.

With each step Brienne’s heart pounded faster. Her feet kept moving with increasing speed and without realizing it she was sprinting away from uptown, away from her emotions, away from Jaime. The winter’s night air was frigid on her face, but that didn’t seem to matter much to Brienne.

She ran hard, until her lungs burned, and she was gasping for air.

Arms wrapped around herself, she tried to determine her surroundings. A strong gust of wind blew from the north, and Brienne shivered, suddenly feeling just how cold the night was.

The reflection of a bright neon sign in a nearby puddle caught her eye.

She powered her way to the White Tower, praying it was open this late – or early – on holidays. “Always Open, Always Pouring” greeted Brienne as she pushed open the heavy door.

The bar was empty – it was in the early hours of Christmas morning – save for a bald man asleep at the end of the bar and a woman in a low cut crimson dress nursing a glass of wine next to him.

Brienne’s entrance had drawn the attention of the woman and Davos, the barkeep.

“Brienne,” Davos said in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you here tonight.”

“I...um…” she chattered.

“Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you something warm to drink,” he said with a soft smile.

Brienne sat down on a stool, trying to ignore the red woman to her left staring. Davos went behind the bar and took a thermos from a low-lying shelf. He poured hot liquid into a large mug and brought it to Brienne.

The heat of the drink warmed her numb hands, and she tightened her grip. The scent of clove and cinnamon wafted from the cup with an undercurrent of apple.

“That should warm you, girl,” Davos told Brienne.

The red woman addressed Brienne with a husky voice, “The night is dark and full of terrors. The windchill tonight is below freezing.”

“Do you have a winter jacket?” Davos asked, his voice heavy with concern.

“I layer,” Brienne said quietly.

After she drained her mug, Brienne cradled her head in her hands. This was without a doubt, the most confusing Christmas she had ever experienced.

“What brings you to the White Tower?” the woman asked.

“Mel, the girl probably doesn’t want to talk about it,” Davos interjected. The bald man let out a loud snore.

“I hooked up with someone out of my league and left in a panic because I was afraid of what would happen next,” Brienne sighed. “He is the most handsome, dedicated, spirited man I’ve ever known, and I’m...me. We could never be seen in public together. It’d be a joke. He is probably regretting what we did, and now it’s going to be awkward between us, and it’s all my fault!”

“And you know this for certain?” Melisandre asked. Brienne didn’t have an answer for her. “It seems to me that you made a choice for this man instead of asking him what he wanted.”

Melisandre’s words had a truth to them. What would Jaime have done if she had waited for him? Brienne hadn't given him the opportunity; she had been too scared he would reject her.

“Davos, darling, two Fireball shots please,” Melisandre said sweetly.

Davos poured two shot glasses to the rim with the cinnamon whiskey, and Melisandre handed one to Brienne.

“May this fire ignite our passions, and our loins,” Melisandre announced to the empty bar and swiftly downed the liquor. Davos gave her an exasperated look.

Brienne blushed and then drank the whiskey in a single gulp. Her empty stomach rumbled loudly enough for Davos and Melisandre to notice.

“Do you have any food here?” Brienne asked.

“Not much, sorry. But you can check in the back.” Davos replied.

The back room was cramped but well lit, with liquor boxes stacked nearly everywhere. A small conventional toaster oven was shoved in a corner. Brienne rummaged through the cabinet above it and found an unopened can of roasted peanuts and various spices probably used to make some kind of Bloody Mary cocktail. There was also a small amount of sugar and canola oil.

Taking a small bowl, Brienne dumped the peanuts into it and drizzled oil on them. She gently shook the bowl to coat each peanut.

About two tablespoons of sugar, salt, cayenne pepper, garlic powder and ground cumin were added on top of the nuts, which were tossed again to evenly distribute the seasoning.

As the toaster preheated to 300 degrees Fahrenheit, Brienne laid the peanuts on the tiny baking tray she retrieved from the toaster. She let the peanuts cook for 20 minutes, taking them out occasionally to stir. Davos came to check on her twice, and she shooed him out both times.

When they were cooled and ready to eat, Brienne took her snack to the bar to share. Davos and Melisandre were delighted and even woke up the sleeping man - who was introduced to Brienne as Stannis - to try the spiced peanuts.

The sugar made the peanuts sweet, while the cayenne made them spicy, and the garlic added a full-bodied flavor.

“Not to be rude, but why are you guys here at 3 a.m. on Christmas morning?” Brienne asked the two.

“We don’t celebrate Christmas,” Stannis said with a small chuckle. 

“And the company is nice,” Melisandre added. She, Davos and Stannis shared an amused look that hinted of something unsaid. Brienne didn’t push any further.

Once the peanuts were gone, Davos called a cab to take Brienne back to her apartment. She was sent off with a warm hug from the man.

When Brienne was finally under the warm comforter of her bed, she dared to look at her phone. There were two unread texts, one from her father and one from Jaime.

The one from Selwyn was a Christmas greeting with festive emojis. The message from Jaime only read:

> _ Sorry. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melisandre, Stannis and Davos are definitely in a polyamorous throuple.
> 
> Hot Apple Cider recipe  
> <https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/9501/hot-apple-cider/>
> 
> Spiced Peanuts recipe  
> <https://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/spiced-peanuts/>
> 
> Send me prompts on Tumblr: [bussdowntarthiana](http://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	17. Honey Spiced Latte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You really came through for this chapter lewispanda. THANK YOU!
> 
> ⚠️ NSFW

Brienne allowed herself the indulgence of sleeping in. It was Christmas after all, and Brienne didn’t want to leave the warmth of her bed. She was woken up by a loud knock on her front door.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she shuffled to the door and opened it. Jaime stood there, sunlight pouring in from behind him in a heavenly fashion. Brienne squinted at him thinking he looked half a god.

“Jaime?” she rasped.

“Merry Christmas, Tarth. Can I come in?” he asked nervously.

She stepped aside, letting Jaime into her small apartment  – which at the moment was particularly untidy.

“Sorry about the mess,” she mumbled. “Do you...want something to drink?”

“Do you have coffee?”

She nodded and led him into her kitchen after he removed his jacket, scarf and boots. He sat down at the counter and placed a wrapped box gently on the surface. It had a comically large blue bow and shiny wrapping paper covered in snowflakes.

Brienne stared at the gift in confusion.

“This is for you,” Jaime said, a faint blush forming on his cheeks. “You left before I could give it to you last night.”

“Oh...” Brienne managed. Embarrassment kept her from meeting Jaime’s gaze. She blushed a brilliant shade of red, almost the same shade as the stolen hoodie lying on her bed.

With shaking fingers, she removed the bow and wrapping to reveal a box that held a deep blue winter coat. Brienne gasped as she took it out; the coat was beautiful and must have cost a small fortune. It was waterproof and lined with fur, guaranteed to keep her warm and dry. The designer label tucked into the back of the jacket was sewn with thread as golden as Jaime’s hair.

“I hope I got your measurements right,” Jaime said softly.

“It’s perfect,” Brienne whispered after slipping on the garment. It wasn’t heavy or cumbersome and felt as soft as silk under her fingers. “I-I don’t know what to say. I didn’t get you anything.”

Jaime threw his head back with a deep laugh. “That’s all right. The coffee is enough of a gift.”

“Jaime, no. I can’t accept it...it’s too much!”

“Please, Brienne.”

“Ok,” she said, finally making eye contact. “Thank you.”  With great reluctance she took off the coat and placed it back in the box, allowing herself to run her hands down the fabric once more to feel the quality of it.

Brienne put her ground coffee in a filter and brewed it. In a small saucepan, she combined whole milk, molasses, honey, and sugar, then added ground nutmeg, cloves, ginger, and cinnamon for flavor.

The milky mixture was cooked over medium heat until it began to stream. Brienne transferred the contents of the saucepan into her blender and processed it until it had a foamy texture.

She poured the milk into two glasses and added the brewed coffee. The final step was a whipped cream garnish; Brienne skipped this on her cup and instead sprayed the Reddi Whip directly into her mouth.

She handed Jaime his drink and sat next to him. The two sipped their sweet lattes in relative silence until Brienne summoned the courage to address the elephant in the room.

“I’m not sorry,” she said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not sorry...about what happened...last night.”

“Oh,” Jaime said, surprise undisguised in his voice. “I don’t regret it either. I usually don’t come in my pants while kissing a woman. It’s been...a while.”

Brienne remembered Loras’ comments about Jaime and his romantic relationships, or lack thereof. How could someone so good looking be chronically single, she wondered.

“I haven’t had sex in over three years,” Brienne blurted out.

“Four,” he said solemnly. “Longer for an actual date. The restaurant takes up most of my time and most people don’t understand that. Le Lion D’or is my...everything.”

Jaime sighed, then continued, “I am sorry, for what I said to you. If you want to focus on pastry, that’s fine. I shouldn't have pushed. I was an asshole.”

“Jaime Lannister, admitting he was wrong? It must be a Christmas miracle.”

They both laughed so hard tears streamed down their cheeks.

“Jaime, whatever it was that started last night, I-I want it to continue,” Brienne whispered, placing her shaking hand atop his.

“I do too,” he breathed and leaned into her.

They kissed softly, like it was the very first time for both of them.

Brienne’s body buzzed. Jaime was here – _in her home_ – and he was kissing her so sweetly, and it was _real_.

Jaime’s mouth moved from her lips to her neck, and Brienne let out an uneven breath. He nipped and sucked at her skin, leaving a trail of red marks. 

“Jaime,” Brienne murmured into his ear. He stopped his descent down her strong neck to kiss her again, this time with force. Their tongues caressed each other as Jaime palmed Brienne’s petite breasts through her shirt.

A moan passed through her lips and Jaime sighed, “Fuck, please take me to your bed.”

The thought of them tangled together on her bed made Brienne damp with arousal. Taking his hand, she led Jaime to her bedroom and once there, gave him a light shove onto her queen mattress. He looked up at her in awe as she tossed her shirt on the floor.

Brienne knelt on the bed and crawled on top of Jaime. His hands caressed the bare skin of her back and torso in a rhythmic motion, focusing on her breasts before sliding down her stomach and up her back.

Feather-light kisses were planted upon Jaime’s face as Brienne ran her fingers through his soft locks. “You’re so beautiful,” she told him.

He answered her with a demanding kiss. Flipping their positions, Jaime pinched both of Brienne’s nipples simultaneously. She hissed in pleasure, arching her back off the bed toward Jaime.

“So sensitive,” he mused. 

“Shut up,” Brienne said as her blush spread from her face down her body.

“Never,” Jaime whispered with a wicked grin. He took a sensitive nipple into his mouth and bit it gently, causing Brienne to cry out.

He hooked his thumbs into the band of her sweatpants and underwear and pulled them down. Once exposed, the heady scent of Brienne’s arousal made Jaime’s cock stiffen.

“Can I taste you?” he asked, brushing his fingertips over her nipples.

Brienne nodded, unable to speak. Jaime knelt between her legs and gently parted the folds of her dripping cunt. He lightly blew against her, enjoying the reaction it brought.

With a confident tongue, Jaime teased her clit. Brienne’s hips surged up, seeking the warm comfort but he held her firmly in place as he pleasured her.

Brienne was powerless to stop the gasps and moans she made. Jaime drew them out of her with ease, relishing in every sound she made.

He delicately dipped a finger into her, spreading her wetness over her clit.

“More,” Brienne gasped.

Jaime took two fingers to stroke her from within as she cried out. It wasn’t long before she fell apart from his ministrations, and Jaime continued them through each wave of her orgasm, only stopping when Brienne tiredly swatted his hand.

He moved up her body and leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead when his phone began to ring obnoxiously.

“Shit,” he sighed and reached over to end the distraction. However, when Tywin’s name lit up the screen, he knew he had to answer.

“Yes, I’ll be there soon,” he said into the phone after a brief moment of listening. “You didn’t need to wait for me. I’m  – yes,  _ I’m sorry _ . Goodbye.” He turned to Brienne, disappointment and regret clouding his face. “I’m late for Christmas with my family.”

“Oh,” Brienne tried not to sound as disappointed as she felt. “Well, we will need to be quick then.”

“What?”

Brienne grabbed Jaime by the collar of his shirt and flung him down on the bed. Adrenaline rushed through her as she unzipped his jeans and took his cock in her hand.

Brienne stroked his cock with a firm grip. His head fell back against her pillows as he thrust up into her palm. He panted when she took the head in her mouth, tasting the wetness already gathered there. With a startled gasp, he spilled his seed into her mouth moments later.

The two quickly cleaned up and dressed, together this time. Brienne tried to give back the red hoodie she stole the night before, but Jaime insisted she keep it.

“It’s yours,” he said with a smile as slipped out the door. “It will always be yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's coat was inspired by [this one](https://www.mackage.com/us/en/adali-down-coat-with-signature-silverfox-fur-collar/10021083.html?gclid=Cj0KCQiAq97uBRCwARIsADTziyYhAI_j6_xYtK_dWr1fuK0WAjIgcyBFrshncHpby11KggBe6O4m8OwaAs0OEALw_wcB) from Mackage. There won't be a chapter next week because of the holiday - sorry!
> 
> Honey Spiced Latte recipe  
> <https://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/honey-spiced-latte/>
> 
> Send me prompts on Tumblr: [bussdowntarthiana](www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	18. Paris-Brest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Warning: There is violence in this chapter.

Brienne tried to keep it professional at work, but even the sight of Jaime made her stomach twist in excitement. She certainly blushed more frequently and avoided looking directly into his sharp emerald eyes, for if she did the memory of Christmas flooded her mind and other parts of Brienne she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Their morning cooking lessons continued as it had been, except now Jaime kissed Brienne goodbye when she left the restaurant. It had been six days since Jaime had come to Brienne’s apartment, and the terms of their relationship had not yet been discussed. They were coworkers and friends – that much was clear – but the new physical aspect had shaken Brienne to her core.

Jaime wasn’t her boyfriend, so was he her lover? It was obvious they cared about one another, and their working relationship was built upon mutual respect and admiration of skill. But could that transition into a romantic relationship? Did she want it to be one? She wanted his tongue and fingers between her legs – Brienne knew that for certain, and she longed to experience his cock moving within her.

Brienne sighed, pushing the thoughts aside. She quickly exchanged her winter coat and sweater for her chef’s whites and entered Le Lion D’or’s kitchen.

The restaurant was busier than ever, with more high profile guests and Casterly business associates filling out the dining room. More clients to impress meant more elaborate menus. Both Jaime and Brienne, in addition to Sandor and Podrick, had been staying late into the night preparing food for the week ahead.

New Year’s Eve completed the year-end rush. Along with an obscene amount of champagne, Le Lion D’or was serving crustacés et coquillages. Currently, pounds of fresh raw oysters, mussels, sea urchin, cockles and shrimp were being cleaned by Sandor and Jaime.

The sound of her entrance broke Jaime’s intense concentration, and he smirked at her. In return, Brienne briskly walked to her station to hide the heated blush covering her face.

For dessert Brienne was to make 25 individual Paris-Brests. To save time – and her sanity – she had prepared prepared the pâte à choux beforehand.

Brienne grabbed the ingredients needed for the filling. She cooked diced rhubarb and granulated sugar in a saucepan over medium heat until the vegetable collapsed and the mixture thickened. She then took the saucepan off the heat and combined the remaining sugar with instant ClearJel. Once done, the two mixtures were whisked together gracefully.

After placing the filling in the fridge to cool, it was time to make the whipped cream. In a large mixing bowl, Brienne whipped heavy cream until soft peaks formed. Confectioner’s sugar and ClearJel were added to the heavy cream and it was beat together, becoming light and fluffy while holding stiff peaks in the cream. As the last touch, Brienne stirred in vanilla extract, to give it a delicate flavor that would work well with the sourness of rhubarb.

After retrieving the pâte à choux and filling, Brienne cut the circles of pastry in half like bagels. The rich rhubarb filling was spread on the bottom portion, while whipped cream was piped decoratively on the top slice and above the filling. Sandwiching them together and dusting them with confectioner's sugar completed the dish.

Excess whipped cream was piped on the plating with help from Podrick, to garnish the dessert.

Brienne took a second to admire her work. The little round pastries were beautiful and brought a smile to her lips.

“Really nice work Brienne,” Podrick smiled.

She thanked him and promised to make some for the staff later. Jaime came to assess the desserts after Podrick left. He leaned close to Brienne, causing her heart to quicken its pace.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes,” Brienne whispered unevely. Her mind instantly reliving the sensation of Jaime wrapped around her, fingers buried inside her cunt.

The two shared a knowing, hopeful gaze that was interrupted by the sound of dishes breaking in the dining room, followed by frightened screaming.

“What the fuck?” Sandor mouthed to Jaime.

Podrick looked out the small window of the kitchen door into the dining room. He paled instantly. “It’s a robbery,” he whispered.

Jaime calmly walked to the window, his clenching his fists with white knuckles.

“What’s going on?” Brienne whispered.

“There are seven men,” Jaime said. “Two with guns. They’re wearing ski masks and making everyone hand over their purses and wallets.”

Our phones are in the employee area, Brienne thought forlornly.

Taking a shaky deep breath, Jaime grabbed the sharpest meat cleaver in the kitchen. “I’m going to make a distraction,” he said. “You all get to the lockers and call the police.”

“Jaime…” Brienne whispered as she realized what he planned to do. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes and her chin began to quiver. “I won’t let you do this alone.”

“I’ll help you too,” Sandor said gruffly. “I can take at least three of them.”

Both he and Brienne grabbed sharp kitchen knives. Podrick and Gendry agreed to make a run for the lockers, while the three of them would be out in the main hall.

“Once you get your phones leave the building immediately, no matter what,” Jaime told them.

“But chef-” Podrick started.

“No matter what,” Jaime interrupted harshly. Then, he took another knife and opened the kitchen door. “What do you think you’re doing in my restaurant?!” he screamed, throwing the smaller knife at the closest intruder. It flew through the air and landed with a _thwack_ into the man’s thigh.

Chaos broke out.

Sandor, Jaime and Brienne rushed the masked men, who were utterly taken by surprise. They were able to disarm the two with handguns first, and it became a full out melee after, with the three fighting as hard has they ever had. One of the men came from behind Brienne as she was fighting another opponent and tripped her; she fell to the floor with a grunt. He dove on top of her and wrestled the knife out of her hand.

“You ugly bitcth,” he spat with a lisp. “I’m going to cut up your face like a turkey.”

“Fuck you!” Brienne screamed.

Suddenly the man was thrown off her. Jaime stood above and lifted her up quickly, but was soon knocked to the ground as well. The large butcher knife flew from his hand at the impact.

The masked man yelled for three of his accomplices to hold Jaime down as he grabbed his knife. Before Brienne could react, the butcher knife came down on Jaime’s right hand.

Blood, so much blood, poured onto the pristine tiled floor. Police sirens wailed in the distance. The sound of Jaime’s screams echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Chef Jaime mood board  
> <https://bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com/post/189481530983/bussdowntarthiana-mise-en-place-brienne>
> 
> Paris-Brest recipe  
> <https://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/paris-brest-recipe>
> 
> Send me prompts on Tumblr: [bussdowntarthiana](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	19. Lobster Bisque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for helping me take this story to the next level (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

The steady beeping of Jaime’s heart monitor lulled Brienne into a light sleep. She had been sitting at his bedside for two days, neglecting all else to stay with him. Lack of food and sleep was magnifying her fatigue, but she refused to leave until Jaime woke.

His right hand had been damaged beyond repair, and the surgeons had been forced to amputate it. Tyrion, who was listed as Jaime’s emergency contact, had agreed to the surgery with a haunted expression.

“He’ll kill me for this,” he had sighed.

“You are doing what’s best,” Brienne had offered. “The damage is too great for them to fix. He could have bled out or gotten an infection. You made the decision to save his life. How can he fault you for that?”

Eyes glassy with unshed tears, Tyrion had held out his hand to Brienne. She had taken it and leaned downward to embrace the man.

The superficial cuts on her body had begun healing, but the bruising created a disturbing patchwork of deep blues and purples on her skin. Nurses visibly cringed when they caught sight of her. It had unsettled Brienne at first, but she became resigned to the confused and terrified gazes of the hospital staff and visitors.

At least Tywin Lannister had looked her in the eye when he had spoken to her. He had rushed to King’s Landing General Hospital soon after Jaime had been admitted, demanding the best doctors. Tywin paid for a private room in a relatively empty wing of the hospital and received updates on Jaime’s status from the nursing staff, but he had not been back to visit.

“Jaime has held many idiotic notions in his life, but this is by far the greatest,” Tywin had said bitterly to Brienne and Tyrion. “He should have waited for the police instead of trying to play at being a hero.”

“Those men were armed and could have hurt people,” Brienne had challenged. “He did what he thought was right.”

Tywin had scoffed at that.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Tyrion had retorted.

“No, it doesn’t,” Tywin had agreed icily. “Le Lion D’or will be closed for the month while all medical and legal matters are attended to.” He departed after that, leaving Tyrion and Brienne alone with an unconscious Jaime.

After a few hours, Tyrion had left as well. He had needed to inform the restaurant staff and postpone food and wine shipments.

With no duties to attend to, Brienne had decided to stay at King’s Landing General Hospital until Jaime came to. The thought of him waking up and realizing his amputation alone had made her feel sick. Jaime was strong, but he was going to need support to get through this. His life was about to drastically alter.

As Brienne fell deeper into sleep, her mind drifted to the last time she had spent an extended period at a hospital. 

Fluorescent lights flickered above her head, straining Brienne’s eyes. She was in a long, white hallway, and silence surrounded her. The more she walked, the longer the hallway became. So she ran, trying desperately to reach the room at the end. The room with her father inside. She needed to make sure he was all right. She needed to see his face. She needed-

Brienne woke with a startled gasp and sweaty brow.

As she took calming deep breaths, Jaime’s eyes flickered open. The relief was overwhelming.

“Jaime,” Brienne whispered. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a train,” he coughed. “How long was I out?”

“Two days.”

His gaze fell to his bandaged wrist, and his eyes widened in horrified realization.

“They couldn’t save it,” Brienne said as she laid her hands on his left. “I’m so sorry.”

“Leave,” he choked out.

“Jaime-”

“I...would like to be alone.”

Both held pained expressions, but Brienne respected Jaime’s request for solitude. Stopping at the threshold of the door, Brienne called back to him, determination clear in her voice, “I’ll bring you some food later.”

With his palette, he wouldn’t stomach the bland hospital food. Brienne knew it would make him even more miserable, so she left and headed straight to the grocery store.

Walking the store aisles with purpose, she purchased a bottle of white wine, chicken stock, milk, onion, carrots, Cognac, heavy cream and lobster meat. After some thought, she also grabbed extra rolls of butter. You can never have too much, Brienne mused.

Though her apartment was a mess, Brienne immediately began cooking. A shower and cleaning wouldn’t settle her nerves.

The vegetables were washed and cut and the lobster meat was seared in butter.

More butter was melted in a large pan. Flour, paprika, salt and pepper were then stirred in. Brienne slowly whisked in milk, followed by chicken stock and white wine, until the roux became thick and smooth with a cream-like consistency. She was careful not to let it boil and curdle the bisque.

Minced onion and finely shredded carrots were added to the soup next. Brienne let it simmer for 10 minutes before adding the lobster meat.

She methodically stirred in the Cognac and heavy cream to finish the dish. The savory scent of the bisque filled her kitchen, and Brienne let herself enjoy it for a few seconds. After tasting it, she added additional paprika.

The lobster bisque was stored in an insulated thermos so that it would remain hot for several hours. Brienne sliced a day-old baguette as well and wrapped it in a paper bag. The crunchy bread would provide a contrasting texture to the creamy soup.

With her creation finished, Brienne finally showered and changed into clean clothes, avoiding her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Only three hours had passed since she left King’s Landing General, but the urge to return to Jaime’s side was too strong to be ignored. She carefully placed the food in her backpack and rode her bicycle to the hospital, hoping the shock of losing his hand had faded slightly.

As she walked toward Jaime’s room, Brienne heard the angry tones of an argument. A beautiful blonde woman in a stylish pantsuit was glaring down at Jaime; she was red in the face from anger, while Jaime was as white as a sheet.

“You truly _are_ the stupidest Lannister,” the woman spat, turning on her Louboutin heels and walking past Brienne without any acknowledgement. She stood stunned in the doorway for a few seconds before entering.

“How are you feeling?” she asked tentatively.

“Like my fucking hand was chopped off,” Jaime huffed, his frown deepening.

Brienne flinched, but continued, “I made lobster bisque.” She pulled out the meal and set it before Jaime, who stared at it blankly.

“That was Cersei,” Jaime finally said in a small voice.

“Oh…” Brienne didn’t know much about Jaime’s sister. He never spoke of her, and Tyrion had only a few choice words to describe his opinion of her. From what she could gather, Cersei Lannister was once close to Jaime, but now the twins’ relationship was strained at best, nonexistent at worse.

“My sweet sister came here to berate me about my life choices,” Jaime said, waving his stump in the air. “I can’t be in her wedding party now. _I’m hideously deformed_. Not that I was ever going to attend that god forsaken wedding in the first place.”

Brienne stared silently at Jaime as he continued.

“They don’t love each other,” he spat. “Cersei is incapable of loving anyone.”

“Jaime...” Brienne sighed.

“Cersei…she…” Jaime couldn’t meet Brienne’s eyes. He had begun to tear up, she realized. Taking a tissue, Brienne delicately blotted his tears.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she whispered. But the dam had been broken, and the truth came rushing out of Jaime’s mouth.

“She controlled me most of my life. I’ve never...I’ve never had a romantic relationship. Cersei wouldn’t allow anyone else to get close to me. She decided who I would associate with, and she decided who I would...sleep with. She isolated me, even from members of our own family. I never questioned her making decisions for me. I-I thought that she knew me better than anyone and that... _she loved me_. Toward the end, about four years ago, we began fighting a lot. I was opening up Le Lion D’or and didn’t have time for her anymore. She...became physical. I just let it happen. I thought...I deserved it.”

Brienne squeezed Jaime’s forearm tightly. “You do not deserve abuse. Not then, not now, not ever,” she said with conviction.

Jaime took a deep breath. “I know. Sandor and Addam helped me realize that, actually. They really helped me in those early days.”

Trying not to look too surprised, Brienne smiled. “Thank you for being honest with me, Jaime. I guess you are owed a little honesty from me as well…” she said while playing nervously with the hem of her light blue sweater. “That man you rescued me from a couple of months ago, the one who grabbed me – his name is Hyle Hunt. When we were at Dragonstone he was my boyfriend, I guess. It was very brief. We were both on the track and field team. He paid attention to me, so I let him take me out. Men never...I, _I know what I look like_. I didn’t think I would ever date. We had unspectacular sex a couple of times. Then, I overheard a conversation between him and the other boys on the team. They had a bet going on my virginity. Hyle obviously won and was collecting _his winnings_ ,” she said with venom.

Jaime looked both horrified and pissed. “I should have punched that asshole,” he said.

“Oh, I already did,” Brienne chuckled. “Now, eat your soup before it gets cold.”

Jaime grimaced and attempted to hold a spoon with his left hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. I'm going to try to get a chapter out next week as well but the holidays may stop that from happening.
> 
> Lobster Bisque recipe  
> [https://www.thespruceeats.com/lobster-bisque-recipe-1375833](https://www.thespruceeats.com/lobster-bisque-recipe-1375833)
> 
> Send me prompts on tumblr: [bussdowntarthiana](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	20. Flamiche aux Poireaux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda!!!

After the threat of infection had passed and Jaime’s condition became stable, he was discharged. Brienne helped him change out of the thin hospital gown he was doomed to wear and into fresh clothes. The distant expression on his face stayed throughout the process and remained as she pushed the hospital wheeled chair to the rear doors of the cab Brienne called. She helped Jaime into the backseat, her strong arms cradling him gently.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

Brienne paused, not sure where exactly they should go. Were they even going to the same location? Was she supposed to drop him off and then go back to her place? He had barely uttered a word the last few days.

Jaime told the driver his address with a sigh, settling the matter of their first destination. They sat in silence as the cab weaved through the congested city streets. After blankly staring out the window for a while, Jaime simply closed his eyes and let the dull vibration of the car lull him to sleep.

The pain medication must be making him tired, Brienne thought with a frown. She missed the Jaime that was full of flaming passion and always had something smart or crass to quip. He didn’t say much as of late; the full realization of his loss had sunk him into depression, and the strong pain medication certainly didn’t make him more social.

When they arrived at Jaime’s apartment, Brienne took him in her arms again.

“I can walk,” he mumbled, but hooked his left arm through her right. The two slowly made their way up to the penthouse floor.

Seeing him in this state made Brienne’s heart ache. You brave, foolish man, she thought. She couldn’t just leave him to wallow in solitude.

Jaime fumbled with his keys in his left hand but managed to get the door open. His apartment was sparse but clean. Without the Le Lion D’or staff filling it, the space seemed empty, lonely. He didn’t have much decoration, just a few paintings on white walls and a few metal lighting fixtures. A kitchen table, couch and flat screen television accounted for most of the furniture. His bedroom looked more lived in, with clothing strewn about and books on the nightstand.

Brienne remembered the last time she had been in Jaime’s bedroom and blushed. Now is _not_ the time, Brienne scolded herself.

“Are you hungry?” Brienne whispered to Jaime, who was already curled up in bed.

“Mmm,” he groaned.

“I’ll…I’ll make something for us…if that’s ok with you.”

“Yeah,” he said and promptly turned on his stomach, snuggling into a pillow.

Describing Jaime’s kitchen as impressive would be an understatement. It was easily the largest part of the apartment, with an expansive and meticulously organized pantry, state of the art cookware and expensive gadgets Brienne had only seen in professional kitchens. It was a chef’s playground.

Silently thanking Tyrion - who had stocked the apartment with fresh food the day before – she grabbed butter, flour, salt and ice water. She diced the butter and then left it in the fridge to chill before setting onto her next task – combining salt and flour in a large bowl.

Once properly chilled, the cubed butter was added to the flour and salt mixture. Brienne cut the butter into the mix until the texture resembled coarse sand. She then carefully incorporated the ice water, one tablespoon at a time. The resulting dough was bouncy and smooth, the perfect base for her flamiche.

After being rolled into a ball and flattened, it was gently transferred to a 10 inch tart pan to chill. Brienne set the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit and cut a square of parchment paper 4 inches longer than the tart pan. She pierced the bottom of the crust with a fork and then lined it with parchment paper.

Jaime’s kitchen probably had ceramic pie weights, but Brienne didn’t need them. Dried beans would hold the paper down just fine - a trick she read from a footnote in one of her mother’s cookbooks. The crust was baked for a short time and then set aside. With steady yet gentle hands, Brienne peeled the parchment paper off the pastry crust.

She moved on to the filling, dicing the bacon into small, uniform cubes and frying them over medium heat in a large skillet until the meat became crisp and golden brown. The bacon was removed from the pan but the fat remained. Butter and chopped shallot were added to the skillet and were cooked until translucent.

Delicately sliced leeks cooked in the fatty glaze, soaking up the rich umami. Adding white wine, Brienne cooked the leeks until they became soft and pliable and then seasoned them with salt, freshly ground pepper and nutmeg.

The bacon was put back into the skillet, along with two tablespoons of flour and milk. The filling was stirred well and thickened easily. Crème fraîche was then incorporated to make the filling more rich.

Taking the pan off the stove to cool slightly, Brienne cracked two eggs into the filling, along with Gruyere cheese. Finally, she poured the filling into the crust and scattered the remainder of the cheese evenly over the top. It was baked for 40 minutes and set aside to cool. Flamiche aux poireaux was best enjoyed at room temperature.

With her task complete, the uneasiness began to settle in. What exactly was she doing here? There were so many things left unsaid between Jaime and herself. Brienne’s stomach flipped as questions swirled through her.

The situation she found herself in made Brienne deeply uncomfortable. For months Jaime was untouchable, and now she was in his apartment, making them dinner.

Brienne shot up and walked to the bathroom. The cold water she splashed on her face stung like a bee, but it stopped the overthinking. She glanced into the mirror before her, realizing this was really the first time in days she has seen her reflection.

She looked... _green_. The swelling had gone down and the severe bruising had started to fade from deep blues and purples to sickly yellows and greens.

“Beastly,” she muttered before leaving to wake Jaime.

She sat on the edge of his bed and hesitantly rubbed his arm. “Jaime,” she whispered. “Dinner is ready.”

He groaned but managed to sit up sleepily. Brienne helped him out of bed and to the dining table, trying her best to support him as gently as possible.

The flamiche aux poireaux in front of them made the room smell pleasantly of bacon and cheese. Brienne cut two slices – one for each of them – and then further cut Jaime’s slice into smaller chunks. He stared blankly at the food.

“The bacon is extra crispy,” Brienne said. “That’s how you like it right?”

Jaime nodded, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Thank you,” he said with a hoarse voice. Brienne smiled in return, his gesture gave her a small bit of joy.

They ate with only the sound of forks scratching plates. Jaime ate very slowly, his left hand unused to holding cutlery. His golden locks were noticeably duller, and his beard had grown out longer than Brienne had ever seen it.

He hasn’t had a proper shower in days, Brienne realized. When they finished eating, she shyly offered to help Jaime bathe. He agreed. “I must stink like alleyway behind the restaurant,” he said sadly.

His bathroom was graced with an extravagantly large tub, so Brienne ran a bath. She added lavender bath salts to the hot water, hoping it would help ease some of Jaime’s discomfort.

He needed help undressing, which made Jaime irritated. Brienne stripped his clothes away with a blush, trying not to stare at his body. With some help, Jaime sunk into the hot water with a low moan, his damaged wrist propped up on the side of the tub.

“Call if you need anything,” Brienne said, ready to give him some privacy.

“Stay...please…” he whispered. “I don’t want to be the first Lannister to drown in a tub.”

With a chuckle, she agreed. Eventually, she helped wash his hair, her fingers ranking gently across Jaime’s scalp. Another moan escaped his lips.

After he was clean, she trimmed his beard to its usual length while he laid in the tub unmoving.

He almost looked like the Jaime she knew. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments 💙
> 
> Flamiche aux Poireaux recipe  
> <https://www.oliviascuisine.com/flamiche-aux-poireaux/>
> 
> Send me prompts on Tumblr: [bussdowntarthiana](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	21. Chocolate Mousse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter couldn't have been completed without the help of lewispanda. Thank you!
> 
> NSFW ahead

It had been a shit day for Jaime. The last of his pain medication had been consumed two days ago, and his stump _ached_. His only distraction from boredom and pain was Brienne’s daily visits.

The thought of Brienne coming by on her way home from Stormlands in tight athleisure clothing made Jaime’s cock stir for the first time since the surgery. Though he was in the living room reading the latest issue of Bon Appétit, his hand snaked down his sweatpants.

Fuck it, he thought. Why shouldn’t he seek a little pleasure?

He palmed his cock, thinking of Brienne’s long, long legs and how they would feel wrapped around him. It felt odd to jerk off with his left hand. His grip and pacing was off and frustration soon overcame desire.

Jaime became more and more upset as his cock softened in his grip.

“Come on!” he growled.

“Stop yelling at your penis,” a voice joked from beside him.

Jaime’s head immediately snapped toward the sound and pulled his hand from his pants, embarrassment striking him like a lightning bolt.

“I thought you were coming over later,” he mumbled as he stood up.

“Boxing ended early.” 

“So you just came over here without warning and let yourself in,” he snapped.

“Jaime…” she sighed apologetically.

“I can’t even jerk off with my left hand!” he yelled angrily. “How the fuck am I supposed to go back to work?”

Brienne calmly walked to him, but her chest was rising and falling with heavy breath. “You should have just mentioned something,” she said huskily.

“What?” he asked, completely off guard.

With steady hands, Brienne slid Jaime’s pants and underwear down his body, leaving him exposed from the waist down. She pushed his shoulders with both hands, guiding him to sit on the edge of the couch. His cock jumped to attention under her gaze.

She sank to her knees in front of him and gently took his cock in her large hands. It was thick and hard and fit perfectly in her palm. He gasped and shivered as she stroked his full length, eyes focused on his face.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Though her hands were calloused, they were warm and brought immense pleasure. She grasped him, adjusting the pressure and speed until Jaime groaned with desire. He couldn’t stop staring in awe at Brienne, whose eyes were dark with lust. Every time she licked her lips his hips shot forward. Her plush lips looked so inviting, and he felt an overwhelming need to feel the wet heat of her tongue.

“Use your mouth,” Jaime pleaded in desperation.

Without breaking eye contact or ceasing her ministrations, Brienne lowered her mouth to Jaime’s weeping cock and licked the head. A strangled moan left his lips as she took it in her mouth. Her left hand continued to stroke him as she sucked his cock, while her right cupped his balls, then traveled lower.

She briefly removed her mouth, and Jaime whined at the lack of contact.

“May I?” she asked evenly, but Brienne’s red face betrayed her. The realization of what she intended to do sent a bolt of white hot desire though Jaime.

“Y-yes,” he managed, voice thick with arousal.

After wetting a finger with saliva, Brienne circled his asshole. Jaime cried out desperately, his cock harder than he had thought possible. Slowly, she inserted a finger inside him. It was unlike anything he had experienced before – a pleasant fullness.

“Lift your legs,” Brienne ordered. Jaime quickly followed her instruction, holding his legs up under his knees as best he could with a single hand and stump. The position allowed Brienne to penetrate him deeper, and he whimpered at her touch.

Her finger moved inside his ass ever so slowly as she licked up and down his length. The combination of stimulation had Jaime seeing stars. It felt so good – too good. He was barreling toward completion, moaning wildly.

Brienne must have sensed this and removed herself from him. Breathless, Jaime stared at her – a plea for more in his eyes. She stood up and promptly undressed. Her white cotton boyshorts and sports bra suited her, Jaime thought. His hand reached out to touch her muscled side, and she let out a contented sigh as his fingers brushed along her bare skin.

“Take off your shirt,” Brienne told him, and he complied. “Get on the floor.”

Jaime slid off the couch onto his knees, his face close enough to her cunt to smell just how aroused she was. He looked up at her and licked his lips. Nodding with heavily hooded eyes, Brienne gently guided Jaime’s face to her folds.

He tongued her greedily, holding on to her hip tightly with his hand and resting his stump on the curve of her ass. The musky sweet taste of Brienne’s cunt sent more blood straight to Jaime’s cock. The yelp of pleasure from her after he focused on her clit made Jaime hum in satisfaction.

It didn’t take long for Brienne to stiffen and scream, her orgasm making her flush red from her face to her nipples. She gasped, with one hand squeezing Jaime’s shoulder while the other grabbed his hair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

With a bashful look, Brienne led Jaime to the floor, which was covered with a soft area rug. She crawled up his lean body to kiss his neck and collarbone. With one fluid movement, she held his arms above his head and sank down onto his rigid cock. Both cried out at the sensation.

Her cunt gripped him tightly in a wet, hot heat. The weight of her body and the gentle strength of her arms against him made Jaime lightheaded.

She moved with intention – slowly at first, then building speed and slowing down again to start the process over. Their skin became slick with sweat as Brienne edged him, each movement pulling Jaime down to a place he could never return from. How had he lived before knowing this dreamlike pleasure? It became a world of only Brienne – her hands, her thighs, her strong arms and her sweet cunt.

“Please,” he begged. “Brienne, please.”

With a rough kiss, she increased the pace of their fucking and soon Jaime fell apart under her. She held him as the aftershocks coursed through his body. Flashing a breathless grin, Jaime moved down to her cunt again and licked the evidence of his orgasm from her lips.

Brienne cried out in equal surprise and delight. She came easily at the sight of Jaime between her thighs, mouth wet from the both of them.

They laid on the floor as their breathing slowed. 

“Thank god I decided to go on the pill,” Brienne mused.

Jaime turned to look into her blue eyes. He wanted to tell her exactly how she made him feel – how seeing her was the highlight of his day, how she managed to make him forget about the pain and loss and heartbreak of his life when she was near, how his heart leaped when she smiled, crooked teeth and all.

Instead his stomach loudly growled.

“Hungry?” Brienne laughed. He nodded sheepishly. “Let’s clean up and eat.”

They cleaned the sweat and other bodily fluids from themselves and dressed in the clothes they discarded in the living room. Jaime followed Brienne into kitchen, a slight spring in his step.

“How about some dessert for dinner?” she asked with a playful glint.

“Excellent idea,” he replied.

Sugar, chilled heavy cream, eggs, semisweet chocolate and kosher salt were laid out on the counter.

“Mise en place,” Brienne said to Jaime.

He stared at her uncomprehendingly.

“Help me prepare the ingredients, Jaime,” she continued matter-of-factly.

“I would only hinder you,” he said in a small voice.

“That’s not true,” Brienne replied softly. “Help me, please.”

He begrudgingly washed his hand and stood next to Brienne. The chocolate would need to be chopped and four eggs needed to be separated. That would be difficult with a single hand, but the rest of the ingredients could be measured with relative ease.

Brienne patiently waited for Jaime to measure out each ingredient and set it aside. When he finished his task, she gave him a knife and placed her right hand over his left. Carefully, they chopped the semisweet chocolate block together, Jaime’s stump keeping it from sliding along the counter.

He was able to separate egg yolks from egg whites with the help of a separator, though he did miss twice. Brienne simply wiped the raw egg from the counter with a small smile.

Once the preparation was finished, Brienne beat the heavy cream in a small bowl to stiff peaks. It was covered and set in the fridge to chill. She combined egg yolks, salt and sugar in a heatproof bowl, which she made Jaime hold over a saucepan of gently simmering water.

Whisking as it cooked, Brienne didn’t stop until the mixture became lighter in color and doubled in volume. When it was removed from the heat, she whisked in the chocolate to a smooth texture. 

Using an electric mixer, Brienne beat the egg whites on medium speed until they foamed and then gradually beat in remaining sugar, increasing the speed until stiff peaks formed. The egg whites and sugar were folded into the chocolate, followed by the whipped cream. The mousse was divided into two bowls and garnished with a tiny mint leaf.

Jaime and Brienne ate their food on the couch as the latest episode of Doom of Valyria played in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, birth control pills can regulate hormones and menstruation and clear acne, in addition to preventing pregnancy. I know that when characters have unprotected sex in fics some people are annoyed that contraceptives were never addressed. I didn't want to go into detail about the reasoning behind Brienne's decision to take birth control (even if she wasn't actively having sex up until this point) because I felt like it didn't flow with the scene I had created.
> 
> Chocolate Mousse recipe  
> [https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/classic-chocolate-mousse](https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/classic-chocolate-mousse)
> 
> Send me prompts on Tumblr: [bussdowntarthiana](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	22. Bouillabaisse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your constant support lewispanda!

Jaime and Brienne stood side by side in his kitchen, a large arrangement of vegetables in front of them. Le Lion D’or was reopening the following day, and Jaime’s mood was sour. Tywin’s explicit orders were for Jaime to return to administrative duties only – no cooking, no mornings with Brienne. The Lannister patriarch didn’t trust Jaime in the kitchen in his current state.

Sandor would act as the interim executive chef with Podrick and his sous chef. Jaime had been surprised when Gendry shyly asked to fill in Pod’s position, but he had been a good choice for the job, so it had been approved. He’d been in the kitchen long enough to know how it operated, and he knew how to work with the other staff. The new dishwasher was a friend of Gendry’s – a fat curly-haired boy named Ben, though he went by Hot Pie for some reason.

_I’m sure there’s a story behind that_ , Jaime had thought dryly when he had reviewed Hot Pie’s application.

Addam would continue as the bartender, though he had agreed to help coordinate deliveries and assist Tyrion with the wine cataloging. Sam had decided to take an extended absence from Le Lion D’or. The event had shaken him, and on top of that he was about to start medical school in Oldtown. Jon had managed to convince Bronn to hire his girlfriend, Ygritte. She was mouthy as all hell but knew how to lay on the charm, which made her an excellent server.

Brienne would remain as Le Lion D’or’s pastry chef, and Jaime had absolute confidence in her. She continued to visit Jaime at his apartment in the mornings after her workout. Half of the time they would fuck, and half of the time they would cook, or at least attempt to cook. Brienne pushed his left hand to its limit. She had him stirring, sifting, flipping, washing and cutting. 

Improvement had been slow.

“You’re going to cut all the vegetables,” Brienne told him. “We’re making bouillabaisse.”

Jaime stared at her in disbelief. That would require chopping, dicing and finely slicing. His hand was not dexterous enough.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scoffed. “I know you can do it, and even if you fuck it up, the dish will still taste good.”

With a sigh, Jaime began slowly cutting an onion as Brienne held it in place. His cuts were ugly and uneven, a far cry from his form two months ago, but he continued to diligently chop. Roughly chopping skinned tomatoes proved easier, although much messier.

The potatoes, fennel, and garlic needed to be thinly sliced. Jaime held his kitchen knife so tightly his hand ached. He needed to be precise. With his stump resting against the end of a potato, Jaime began to cut. This was easier than cutting the slippery onion, and he was able to make a few good slices before his hand cramped. He dropped the knife in frustration.

“Fuck!” he growled.

“Jaime, you really are doing it,” Brienne said softly. “Those slices are thin and uniform. Just take your time; we’re not in a rush. Breathe.”

She looked so sincere with her shining blue eyes. _Breathe_ , he told himself, then went back to slicing potatoes.

The garlic and fennel were too small to be held by his stump. Every time he attempted to cut them, the food would roll away. Each failed attempt brought frustration and anger. Jaime’s eyes clouded with anguish as he stared at the ingredients on the cutting board.

A soft brush of Brienne’s hand brought him out of the spiral.

“We’ll work up to this,” she murmured as she took his place by the cutting board and continued slicing the ingredients. “This is gonna be your goal.”

Brienne didn’t push him away or shoo him out of the kitchen. Jaime was standing so close to her he could see the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she steadily breathed. This close, it was almost like their mornings at the restaurant, when it was just the two of them exploring French culinary techniques. She made him feel as if he wasn’t useless or broken. His heart swelled, and he suddenly became overwhelmed in affection for the woman next to him.

“Yes, chef,” he whispered in her ear.

Blushing wildly, Brienne finished the rest of the preparations for their meal as Jaime stood close to her 

The first step was to create the rouille, a sauce of olive oil with breadcrumbs, garlic, egg yolk, lemon juice, tomato purée, harissa paste, paprika and roasted red pepper. 

In a food processor the ingredients – not including the olive oil – were blended to a smooth texture. Olive oil was then slowly trickled into the processor until the mix became thick, almost mayonnaise-like.

Both chefs tasted the rouille and adjusted the seasoning, adding plenty of salt. Once they were pleased with it, it was scooped into a small serving bowl and put in the fridge to chill.

For the stew, Jaime heated olive oil in a large casserole dish. Onion, leek, fennel and garlic were cooked gently for five minutes to soften them. Tomatoes, chili flakes, saffron, bay leaves, thyme and orange zest were added to the vegetables and the mixture was cooked for an additional three minutes.

After adding fish stock and the sliced potatoes, Jaime brought the stew to a boil, then let it simmer until the potatoes were tender.

While he did this, Brienne sliced monkfish and red mullet thickly. The strips were dropped into the stew to simmer for two minutes until it was time to add crevettes and mussels to the dish. After a moment, Brienne fished the unopened mussels and discarded them.

The pastis and fennel herb were stirred in, completing the dish. Brienne ladled the stew into warmed soup plates as Jaime took a seat at the dining table. The rouille was served on the side, ready to be swirled into the hearty seafood stew.

The two chefs ate slowly. Jaime’s left hand was still awkward with silverware, though he had been improving.

“Jaime,” Brienne began delicately. “Have you ever seen a therapist?”

“No…” he said as his face darkened.

“I think...it would be a good idea for you to do that. I’m going back to work tomorrow, and I can tell it has affected you, negatively. I know you want to be there in the kitchen with everyone. It’s going to cause a lot of emotional turmoil.”

Jaime avoided her eyes and did not speak. She was right. He had been dreading the coming day for weeks. It was the day that everyone moved on and left him behind.

“I also think a therapist could help you heal from the trauma caused by your family,” Brienne said softly.

“Trauma? Tarth, I’m-”

“No, Jaime. You’re not,” she stated with conviction.

Her words struck him like a lightning bolt. Suddenly, there were tears on his cheeks. Brienne turned toward him and wiped them away with her thumb.

“Fine,” Jaime choked out. “I’ll do it for you.”

“Don’t do it for me,” she said seriously. “ _Do it for you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bouillabaisse recipe  
> [https://www.deliciousmagazine.co.uk/recipes/bouillabaisse-with-fennel-and-bay/](https://www.deliciousmagazine.co.uk/recipes/bouillabaisse-with-fennel-and-bay/)
> 
> [ I'm on tumblr. ](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	23. Galette des Rois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for betaing!

“No Marg, it’s not like that…” Brienne argued.

“ _Then what is it like, Bri?_ ” Margaery asked, eyes sharp as daggers.

“It’s...complicated.”

“Have you two at least talked about whatever it is you’re doing?” the petite brunette sighed in annoyance.

“No,” Brienne replied sheepishly. “We see each other everyday, and we don’t always...fuck. We never go out in public. As far as I know, you are the only other person who knows that we’ve been intimate. So much has happened. I feel dumb asking to _DTR_ now when he has so many problems looming over him that are more important.”

Margaery stared hard at her friend, pinning her in place with her eyes, then pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She took a deep breath and in an eerily calm voice told Brienne, “You know that you and Jaime are at least friends. What is the worst that could happen if you tell him you want to date?”

“It could ruin our friendship, and I could be fired from my job,” the blonde explained.

“ _How?_ ” Margaery asked exasperatedly.

“He is my boss Marg! This was such a bad idea! I-”

“Bri! You’re snowballing.”

Brienne forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down. “It’s not going to work between us Marg...Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“Brienne, that is not true. I have seen you two together-”

“Then you know that he is out of my league,” she interrupted. “We’re not even playing the same sport. He is so beautiful and I’m _not_. We would look ridiculous together.”

“First of all, appearances do not matter one bit in a love connection,” Margaery said. “Second, no one with any sense would think you were ugly with those eyes and that physique. Third, I have seen you two side-by-side, at work and out of it, and it’s obvious that you two complement each other in the best ways. You are _not_ ridiculous together, and you are not stupid for wanting a relationship with Jaime.”

Weakly smiling at her friend, Brienne blushed at her words. Margaery was well intentioned, but wrong. The two women hugged, their embrace was tight and supportive, much like their friendship. Margaery left not too long after, and once her apartment was empty, Brienne took a moment to shower. She mulled over Margaery’s words as the hot water relaxed her.

When she emerged from her steam-filled bathroom, her phone was loudly buzzing on her bedside table.

Her stomach dropped as she saw the notification – four missed calls from her father’s cell phone and one text that read, “ _CALL ASAP_.”

Brienne quickly called her father, and her heart began to race. It was answered after two rings by a deep male voice.

“Brienne?”

“Yes, who is this? Is my dad ok? Where is he?” she demanded.

“This is Alyex,” the voice said. “I’ve been coming over a couple of times a week to play chess.”

An image of a tall, dark-skinned man in his late forties came to Brienne’s mind. Yes, she remembered her neighbor Alyex. His son was little shit to her in grade school, but she recalled Alyex’s kind smile.

“I-I remember you. What’s going on?”

“Selwyn fell this morning. I found him on the ground about a half an hour ago. The paramedics think his hip is fractured, and he probably has a concussion. He is being taken to the hospital on the mainland right now. He was very adamant about not worrying you, but I think you ought to know.”

“Where is nurse Roelle?”

“She’s been with her daughter, who just had a baby, for the last two weeks. I’ve been coming by more frequently to check on Selwyn.”

Brienne sighed. Of course her father let his caretaker leave for an extended period of time and didn’t inform her.

“And, I don’t mean to worry you, Brienne, but I think your father’s been splitting his pills,” Alyex continued.

That also did not shock her. Selwyn Tarth always made do with the circumstances of his life. But Brienne was making more than enough money to cover the services of nurse Roelle and his prescriptions, he no longer had to simply “make do.” _He didn’t want to burden me_ , Brienne realized sadly.

“Thank you for letting me know, Alyex,” she said, ending the phone call after all the information relating to her father was shared.

Dressing quickly and grabbing her bike, Brienne rode to Le Lion D’or at a breakneck pace. She pedaled with fury, hoping to leave her heartache behind. Thoughts of Jaime, her father, and now the dreaded realization that she would have to interact with Tywin Lannister more often than not made Brienne’s stomach twist.

_Men_ , she thought bitterly.

Despite knowing this moment would come, Brienne was still nervous. She locked her bike and slipped into the restaurant. It appeared to be empty, so she changed into her uniform and began to make that night’s dessert.

Though it was well past January 6, Brienne decided to make galette des rois, a dish traditionally served on Epiphany. The promise of tasting the sweet almond cake soothed her nerves.

In a food processor, almond meal, granulated sugar, egg, butter, vanilla extract and flour were blended into a smooth, creamy paste. Brienne dipped a finger into the almond cream to check the taste; the sweetness coated her tongue and made her mouth water, while the faint nuttyness completed the flavor profile.

After setting aside the cream, Brienne preheated the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. Two 11 inch circles were cut from sheets of the puff pastry she had prepared at home earlier that day. Placing one of the discs on a parchment-lined baking sheet, Brienne then covered it in an even layer of almond cream, leaving a 1 inch border around the circle.

She didn’t plan to add a fève – a small trinket hidden in the cake – but then wondered what Jaime would have done. He would have wanted some whimsy.

Le Lion D’or didn’t have any tiny plastic babies on hand, but there were small porcelain crowns in the pantry. They were supposed to be a garnish for cupcakes that Brienne never got around to making.

She placed one in the almond cream of the cake. Taking the second puff pastry disc, she placed it atop the first and crimped the edges together with a fork to seal the cake. With a knife, Brienne scored a swirled decorative pattern into the top pastry layer, making sure not to cut through to the almond filling.

The galette was brushed with egg wash and baked for 15 minutes. After, it was dusted with powdered sugar and baked for an additional 12 minutes, allowing the puff pastry to become a deep golden brown. As it cooled, Brienne prepared to make more cakes.

The restaurant remained deserted, which was becoming more and more odd by the minute. The dinner shift would start within the hour. She was measuring out ingredients when the kitchen doors swung open, and Tywin briskly walked through.

“Miss Tarth,” he greeted he coolly.

“Mr. Lannister,” she replied, chewing the inside of her mouth.

“I had hoped to catch you before you began to make a mess.”

“I’m making the fifth course for tonight,” she said in a small, but clear voice.

“This fly-by-night approach you and my son have been employing will end tonight. I am planning the menu for the foreseeable future.”

The confusion must have been evident on her face because the Lannister patriarch continued.

“Because of the foolish actions of Jaime and yourself, this restaurant is now under my explicit control. You will step in line or you will be dismissed.”

“ _Foolish actions?_ Jaime did what he thought was right, and now you’re punishing him. He already lost his hand, he doesn’t need you to kill his creativity too,” Brienne said with anger, her face red.

Twin scowled at her. “Don’t think for a moment that I won’t terminate you and blackball you from every restaurant of note in King’s Landing. The only culinary job you’ll get will be at a C- diner.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Brienne seethed, her embarrassment and anxiety gone.

“Then you are as stupid as you are ugly,” he said coldly. “Fucking my son won’t protect you.”

Her eyes widened in shock at Tywin’s reveal. “Oh yes, I know all about _that_ ,” he spat.

Brienne untied her apron and folded it on the counter. She turned to Tywin, fury in her veins. “Jaime is a better son than you deserve. He is a better man than you will ever be, and you will never know that because you don’t see him as a human, you see him as your pawn.”

The images of Jaime in pain at the hospital flooded her mind. They morphed into her father, who was sick, alone and in pain. Her heart sank. _Why am I even here_ , she thought.

“I quit,” Brienne said as calmly as she could and left. She went straight to her apartment, shoved clothes in a suitcase and booked the first flight to Storm’s End.

As she looked out the window of the plane, she thought of Jaime and their relationship, or lack thereof. Her sudden departure would wound him, she knew as much. He was her friend; he deserved more than ghosting. She composed a quick text.

> _I quit LLD. Will be at home for awhile._

Her finger hovered over the send button, and after some hesitation she added.

> _Sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DTR - slang for "define the relationship"
> 
> Galette des Rois recipe  
> [https://www.thespruceeats.com/galette-des-rois-recipe-1375050](https://www.thespruceeats.com/galette-des-rois-recipe-1375050)
> 
> [ I'm on Tumblr ](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	24. Three-Layer Smoothie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda! You always have the best recipe suggestions 😊

Rays of sunlight kissed Jaime’s eyelids, waking him with their warmth. As he wiped the sleep from his eyes, dread settled like an anchor in the pit of his stomach.

The restaurant reopens today, he thought bitterly. Brienne would not be over to see him.

Jaime’s first instinct was to bury himself under the heavy blankets of his bed – responsibilities be damned – but then he thought of Brienne’s face pinched in disapproval, and reluctantly got out of bed. With a catlike stretch, he made his way to the bathroom, shimmying his silk boxer briefs down his lean figure.

Jaime pushed away thoughts of the restaurant as he showered. The cascade of hot water felt pleasant against his tired muscles, and he let out a deep sigh. Not too long ago he and Brienne had shared a shower, both wet and willing. Jaime’s cock stirred at the memory.

They had fucked standing against the cool tile. Brienne’s brilliant blue eyes had been glazed with lust as Jaime gripped her ass and entered her from behind. He recalled the rhythmic slapping sound of their skin meeting as he gripped his length and began stroking.

Groaning, Jaime increased the speed. He wished Brienne was there with him in the steam; her strong arms would support him while her muscled legs would wrap around his waist. The pull of her wet cunt was unlike anything Jaime had ever experienced. It was as if they were made for each other, matched physically in every way.

Her freckled body brought him to life. Had he truly known desire before Brienne Tarth?

Jaime peaked, and his seed covered his hand. The pleasure he felt was sweet but hollow. His heart ached at Brienne’s absence.

When had the blonde pastry chef become so intertwined in his life, in his heart? When had seeing her become the best part of his days, Jaime mused to himself. When had her smile become the most precious thing to covet, and when had the shade of her eyes become his favorite color?

When had he begun to love her?

Jaime froze. _He loved Brienne._

“ _Oh_ ,” he said aloud.

Swiftly exiting the shower and dressing, Jaime called Addam, who picked up after a few rings.

“What’s up, boss?” Addam asked as a form of greeting.

“I think…I need your help,” Jaime responded nervously. Addam patiently waited for him to continue. “Can you come over?”

“Yeah,” Addam replied. “I’ll come over before my shift.” 

Feeling energized, Jaime made use of his temperament in the kitchen. He added almond milk, almond butter, a frozen banana, cocoa powder and two pitted Medjool dates into a state-of-the-art Vitamix blender; the ingredients were blended until the dates were fully pureed.

Then, he added a handful of ice and pulsed the blender to incorporate it into the smoothie. After pouring the almond mixture into the bottom of two large glasses, Jaime put them in the freezer to chill for a half an hour.

While those chilled, he washed out the blender, then used it for the middle layer of the smoothie – made of almond milk, bananas, vanilla, dates and ice. It was poured on top of the bottom layer – creating an elegant lighter stripe – and set to chill in the freezer.

The final layer of the smoothie was made with strawberries, raspberries and almond milk. With as steady a hand as he could manage, Jaime spooned the fruit layer on top of the other two. He sprinkled a few dark chocolate chips over it as a garnish.

The tricolored smoothie was what Tyrion would label “extra,” but Jaime smiled at his work. It was something he made on his own. A small step, but a step nonetheless.

When Addam finally arrived later in the day, Jaime was practically bursting with nervous energy. He thrust a smoothie into Addam’s hand soon after he entered the apartment. The copper-haired man raised an eyebrow as he thanked his friend, then took a sip.

“What’s got you so wound up?” Addam asked.

Jaime paled before answering. “I...I’m in love...with Brienne.”

“Oh,” the bartender said with surprise, then smiled warmly. “Jaime, that’s wonderful. Have you talked to Brienne about it?”

“No. I...I don’t know _how_. I’ve never…”

“It’s pretty simple, buddy. Just meet with her, alone, and tell her how you feel.”

“Well, when you say it like that,” Jaime huffed.

A laugh broke the tension and the two friends smiled at one another. Addam and Jaime had not truly seen each other since the incident that had claimed Jaime’s hand. Self-imposed isolation and the haze of sadness had kept them apart. Jaime had missed his friend, and the two talked until Addam reluctantly prepared to leave for Le Lion D’or.

“Jaime, if you’re up for it – why don’t you come into the restaurant,” Addam suggested. “See everyone, eat some delicious food. It’s been too long since everyone has seen your face.”

And Brienne will be there, a small voice whispered to Jaime.

He agreed to go with Addam. When they arrived at the restaurant, Jaime recognized his father’s Mercedes in the parking lot. He sighed deeply, deflated.

Addam gave him a sympathetic look and clasped him on the shoulder.

“You are going to have to face your father eventually, Jaime.”

“We will all face death eventually too, Addam, but I’m not keen to meet it today.”

At that, the bartender laughed, and Jaime smiled weakly. They entered the restaurant – Jaime made a beeline for the kitchen, while Addam left for the parlor.

He was greeted by the sight of a very perturbed Tywin Lannister. His father looked even more dour than usual, with a deep set frown and furrowed brow.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped at Jaime.

“I came to see everyone,” Jaime answered carefully. “What is going on?”

“Brienne Tarth quit. We need a pastry chef immediately.”

“What!?” Jaime squawked, eyes wide.

“I warned you about her,” Tywin seethed. “Now the restaurant will suffer because of your stupidity! That _woman_ should have never been hired. What a flighty tart.”

“Do not speak of Brienne that way,” Jaime said with such seriousness and anger that Tywin stopped his pacing. His face twisted into a sneer as he looked at his oldest son.

“Was it worth it, Jaime? Was her cunt worth destroying your legacy?”

White, hot rage consumed Jaime as his father spat venom and lies. For a moment, he considered striking his father, relishing in the pain he would cause. _No_ , he thought. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I am more than just this restaurant, father. Brienne had the right idea,” Jaime said bitterly before he turned away.

“You’re throwing it all away! For a woman!” Tywin screamed. “You lackwit!”

“You can buy out my share of Le Lion D’or,” Jaime said as he stormed out the kitchen, his heart beating wildly.

 _I need to see her_ , he thought desperately. Taking the first cab he saw, Jaime raced to Brienne’s apartment. He forcefully knocked on the door, calling out her name, but there was no answer.

He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, nearly dropping it because his hand was shaking. And then, a text message came.

Jaime stared blankly at the words before returning to his home, determination pulsing through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters left! What do you think is going to happen?
> 
> Smoothie recipe  
> [https://www.loveandlemons.com/3-layer-fruit-smoothie/](https://www.loveandlemons.com/3-layer-fruit-smoothie/)
> 
> [ I'm on Tumblr. ](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	25. Pain au Chocolat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lewispanda for always being there for me 💙

The following day Brienne stood outside of the hospital her father resided in, staring up at the bright blue Storm’s End General Hospital sign adorned on the front of the building. Stomach twisting, she made her way through the white hallways that smelled strongly of antiseptic.

The harsh scent brought back unpleasant memories, and Brienne shivered. After a deep breath, she entered room 106 where Selwyn was. Sleeping soundly on the too-small hospital bed, her father looked peaceful. An IV drip was the only thing he was hooked into, which relieved Brienne.

She sat in the chair adjacent to the bed and leaned forward to gently hold his hand. Her phone felt like a brick in her pocket, heavy with the weight of bad news. She turned it off for the flight and had yet to power it back on.

She didn’t want to see Jaime’s response to her sudden departure. At least, not until she was able to sort out the next steps in her life, which started with getting Selwyn discharged from Storm’s End General. _Jaime must hate me_ , she thought forlornly. Quitting her pastry position at Le Lion D’or and running away felt like cowardice.

Selwyn shifted in bed, and Brienne focused her attention on him. _Stop being selfish_ , she reminded herself as she gazed at her ailing father.

When the maesters came a few hours later, Selwyn was awake. They explained his condition to Brienne, who struggled to keep a mask of neutrality as the doctors explained the aftermath of his fall. He had, indeed, shattered his pelvis, but his blood work was promising, and he was responding well to newly prescribed medication. There was no sign of infection, and his Parkinson’s was now being managed properly.

“Dad, why were you splitting your pills?” Brienne asked him quietly once the maesters had left.

“Starlight…” Selwyn sighed.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said unevenly. “I-I’m so worried about you. Let me take care of you, _please_.”

Silently covering her freckled hand with his own, both father and daughter let their tears fall. They came to an agreement after their emotions waned; Selwyn would remain in the hospital until his hip improved, and Brienne would look after the house. She had wanted him to recover in the comfort of his own home, but this way the maesters could keep an eye on him.

With a light kiss to her father’s cheek, Brienne left for her childhood home. Her room was untouched, everything exactly where she left it a year ago. It was almost as if she had never been in King’s Landing, but the dull ache in her heart was a reminder of the time she spent there. 

Brushing her fingers over a faded cookbook on her desk, Brienne smiled weakly.

“Hi mom,” she whispered.

Brienne paged through the dogeared book delicately, stopping on her favorite recipe, pain au chocolat. Her mother had scribbled over the page, making notes on ingredient proportions and substitutions. The dish was a guaranteed pick-me-up.

Suddenly, Brienne was craving sweetness. She left her phone on her desk and set out to make the chocolate pastry. Baking would be the perfect distraction.

In a large mixing bowl, water, sugar, flour, yeast, salt and butter were stirred together until seamlessly blended. After deeming the mixture too runny, Brienne added additional flour to thicken the dough. Once it began to pull away from the side of the bowl, she kneaded the dough to smooth it out.

Brienne placed the dough in a lightly greased bowl and covered it with a cotton cloth. It was set aside for an hour to rise and then chilled. Once the dough had firmed, she rolled it out into a rectangle and placed it on a silicone baking mat. It went back into the refrigerator to cool for four hours.

While the dough was chilling, Brienne cleaned with determination. She dusted every surface, scrubbed the tile grout in her bathroom, and swept the floors. Fingers aching from the effort, she continued her baking.

It was time to make the butter layer. Brienne beat butter and flour together until they became smooth. The mixture was then transferred to a lined silicone baking mat. With a spoon, Brienne smoothed out the butter mixture into the shape of a rectangle. This layer was also chilled for 30 minutes. She wanted the layer firm yet still pliable.

The dough layer was topped with the butter layer, and Brienne began the tedious process of folding the dough into itself, stopping to refrigerate it when the layers became too warm from her hands. 

Once the dough was properly laminated, it was rolled out again into the shape of a rectangle. It was especially cold and firm, but Brienne’s strong arm muscles made easy work of it. With a pizza cutter, the dough was sliced in half vertically, then horizontally three times. Eight 4 by 5 inch rectangles were yielded from the dough. Those were cut in half lengthwise to make 16 pieces.

Gently using her fingers, Birene stretched each piece to be 8 inches long. She placed small pieces of chocolate in a single layer at one end and tightly rolled the dough up around it. Loosely covering the croissants with plastic wrap, the pastry chef let them sit at room temperature for a half hour and then chilled them for twice as long.

Before being baked at 400 degrees Fahrenheit, the pastries were brushed with an egg wash. After 20 minutes they were a beautiful golden brown and ready to take out of the oven. Brienne let them cool for a couple of minutes before wrapping three pastries in parchment paper and stuffing them in an old lunch box.

Dusting off her old bike, Brienne headed to her favorite spot on the island, Evenfall. Large, imposing and abandoned – Evenfall was avoided by most tourists and locals. The castle was practically ruins. Brienne loved the history of the place, and the view from the cliff it resided upon. The rough waters of Shipbreaker Bay could be seen crashing against the beach, sparkling from the sunshine. At night the moon would illuminate the sea and bring it to life.

A meadow of plush grass resided next to the castle, and Brienne settled there. She ate the chocolate croissants as a cold wind swept through her light blonde hair. The sweet flavor of the bread and chocolate combined with the fatness of the butter on her tongue, making the chef sigh with contentment.

She ate and stared out into the sea, finally letting her mind entertain the pressing thoughts she had been pushing away. How was she going to support her father? What restaurants on the island would let her work there? How many pies would she have to sell to pay for Selwyn’s hospital stay? When would she stop being a coward and turn on her phone?

_When will she admit her true feelings to the man she loved?_

Her head fell into her hands as the thoughts spiraled. Then, in the distance, a voice called out her name. Her head shot up, scanning the area. A figure was calling to her, waving their arms frantically. Squinting, Brienne realized it was Jaime.

Shock hit her like a thunderbolt. She sprung to her feet, and soon the two were racing toward each other. When they met halfway, both were breathing heavily. Brienne’s eyes were wide and wild, while Jaime looked as calm as a summer stream. He reached out to her, grabbing her right hand in his own.

“What are you doing here?” Brienne asked him, voice thick with emotion.

“I couldn’t let you leave without knowing how ardently I love you,” Jaime told her.

“W-what?” she stammered as her sapphire eyes welled with tears.

Jaime brushed his thumb over the top of her hand soothingly. “I love you,” he said again, staring into Brienne’s eyes. Slowly, he leaned into her and enveloped the large woman in his arms; they fit together like two perfect puzzle pieces. Brienne cried into his neck, making Jaime hold her tighter.

“You are the most stubborn, amazing, generous woman, and I love you, Brienne Tarth,” Jaime whispered in her ear, the stubble of his beard brushing against her cheek.

Wiping her tears away, Brienne smiled – crooked teeth and all – at the man before her. “I love you too,” she whispered before kissing Jaime, unleashing all her repressed emotions and letting her insecurities fly away like dandelion seeds.

They walked back to her home hand-in-hand.

“How did you find me?” Brienne asked as she unlocked the backdoor.

“Renly,” Jaime responded with a laugh. “He said if you weren’t home you’d be at Evenfall.”

Once inside, Brienne led Jaime to her room. They kissed again – softly, tenderly – with comforting knowledge that their passions were mutual. They stripped each other out of their clothes and embraced on Brienne’s bed. It was barely big enough for her, let alone two people, but that didn’t matter to the lovers.

Taking a sensitive nipple into his mouth, Jaime sucked, rolling the other between his fingers. Brienne arched into his touch, mewling in pleasure. Groans muffled by her skin, Jaime thrust his cock against Brienne’s shapely thighs.

Pushing Jaime off her and onto his back, she straddled his chest facing his erect cock. Jaime didn’t need any instruction – he guided her hips when she leaned over and enthusiastically licked her cunt as she took his full length in her mouth.

They both moaned in heated passion as they brought each other pleasure. Brienne’s body buzzed in hazy arousal. Pressure began to build in the pit of her stomach. Sensing that she was on the verge of orgasm, Jaime parted her folds with his fingers and dipped them into her while he sucked at her clit. She shattered above him with a hoarse shout, and he eagerly lapped up the evidence of her arousal from her cunt and inner thighs.

“You taste so good,” he murmured when he was done, causing Brienne to blush deeply. 

Instructing her to lie on her back, Jaime situated himself between her long legs. He positioned himself at her entrance and rubbed his cock on her slick lips. Both panted in anticipation. With a single fluid motion, he sheathed himself inside of her, cock buried to the hilt.

Brienne held onto him tightly as he rocked into her, the fullness of him making her cry out. Jaime caressed her cheek as he slid in and out of her, and Brienne could feel the love pouring out of him. In his eyes was such devotion and reverence. He looked at her like she was a goddess, like the sun rose and fell at her feet.

“I love you,” he rasped. “God, Brienne, I love you so much.”

“Jaime,” she moaned huskily, repeating his name over and over until his thrusts became erratic. He came with a low groan, filling her cunt with his seed. They clung to one another as their heartbeats slowed.

“How long are you going to be here?” Brienne asked him.

“As long as you’ll let me,” Jaime replied. “I also quit.”

Brienne was stunned. “But, the restaurant-”

“Was just a business venture. I want to live my life with the woman I love. Will you do that with me?”

Intertwining her fingers with his, Brienne kissed his lips sweetly. “Yes, chef,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the epilogue. I can't believe it's almost complete.
> 
> Pain au Chocolat recipe (Frankensteined the one in this chapter from 2 recipes, but I used most of this one)  
> [https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/homemade-chocolate-croissants/](https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/homemade-chocolate-croissants/)
> 
> [ I'm on Tumblr. ](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


	26. Le Fraisier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This project couldn't have been completed without the help of my beta, lewispanda. Thank you so, so much. I can't wait to work on future projects with you.
> 
> Art is by [knifeears](https://knifeears.tumblr.com/)

****

**2 Years Later**

The first cold wind of autumn swept through the island, leaving the beach absolutely deserted. Brienne stood close to the water, her toes buried underneath the soft white sand. It was just after sunrise, and the pastry chef found herself admiring the pink-red hues painted across the sky.

Crunching footsteps alerted her to Jaime’s presence. He hugged her from behind, easily resting his chin in the crook of her neck and softly kissing her cheek. They both smiled and enjoyed the view.

“Today’s the day,” Jaime said as the tide began to reach their feet. Brienne hummed in agreement. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“No,” she replied softly before turning to kiss Jaime. “Not when I have the best chef in Westeros with me.”

He laughed at that, and the two started the short walk back to the cottage that was about to officially become Evenstar Café. Their friends from across the country were arriving today for the grand opening, in addition to members of the press. Jaime and Brienne’s sudden departure from Le Lion D’or had caused quite a bit of buzz in the culinary world. Now that they were about to open a new restaurant together, reporters had been requesting interviews nonstop.

Soon after the initial fallout between Jaime and his father, he had received an offer to buy out his share of Le Lion D’or. It had been more generous than Jaime had expected of Tywin, and he had accepted it without a legal fight. That money had birthed Evenstar Café.

“We should bake the cake now,” Brienne suggested. “It will give us more time later.”

“Time for what, my love?” Jaime asked with a devilish grin.

Giggling, she tossed a red sweater at his face, covering his roguish beauty. He slipped it on and handed Brienne a matching blue one.

“I’ll make the cake, you make the crème diplomat,” Brienne ordered Jaime as she preheated the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit.

After lining the bottom of a springform pan with parchment paper, she greased the bottom and side of the pan with melted butter. Then, she processed sugar and lavender until the latter was finely chopped and mixed well with the former.

Following that, Brienne beat eggs and the lavender mix with a stand mixer until it became fluffy and tripled in volume. The batter was a pale yellow and had a ribbon consistency. Folding in melted butter, the batter became creamier. She then shifted flour over the it and folded that in as well.

The batter was baked for half an hour. While the cake cooled, Brienne made the sugar syrup. In a small saucepan, water, granulated sugar and orange liqueur were cooked over medium heat. She occasionally stirred the syrup to help the sugar melt evenly.

Once the cake and syrup were both properly cooled, Brienne cut the cake into two layers using a serrated knife and brushed each layer with the sugar syrup.

While Brienne worked, Jaime had prepared the crème diplomat, a delicious custard cream that would serve as the icing for the cake.

In a medium saucepan, heavy whipping cream and vanilla bean seeds were brought to a boil.While that was heating, Jaime had whisked egg yolks, sugar and cornstarch together in a medium bowl. When the cream began to boil, he had poured the egg yolk mixture over it, whisking constantly until smooth.

The mixture was returned to the saucepan and cooked over low heat. Jaime whisked constantly until it was bubbling and very thick, adding the butter at the end.

Covering the bowl with plastic wrap that laid directly on the surface of the custard, Jaime then chilled the crème diplomat. While it cooled, he checked their business email and responded to a few interview requests. When the custard was ready, he took it out of the refrigerator and beat additional heavy whipping cream with the stand mixer until stiff peaks formed. That was also folded into the crème diplomat.

After Brienne had finished with the sugar syrup, Jaime handed her the crème diplomat. With one layer on a cake plate, Brienne spread half of the custard over it. She then arranged sliced strawberries on top of the crème and placed the second layer on top.

Jaime grabbed almond paste from the pantry and handed it to Brienne, who rolled it on parchment paper into an 8 inch circle. He then placed the almond paste round on the top of the cake, and she topped it with the remaining strawberries. The final touch was a brush of currant jelly to add another layer of flavor.

The two chefs smiled in appreciation of their work. With daily diligence and practice, Jaime had been able to condition his left hand. He found his hooked prosthetic uncomfortable, but it greatly helped him work in the kitchen. Whenever he didn’t need it, Jaime took it off – and Brienne didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Any other dishes you want to prepare now?” Jaime asked her.

Brienne skimmed one of the many cookbooks stacked in the back office of the café. The menu for the café was built from the recipes of both their families.

“I think I’d rather enjoy the rest of the morning in a different way,” she mused as she closed the book and gave Jaime a wolfish grin.

That evening Evenstar Café was bustling with activity. Laughter bounced around the warm cottage, illuminated by the soft glow of candles and fairy lights.

The chefs were busy in the kitchen, plating various dishes to be sent out to the small dining area. When it came time to serve the le fraisier cake, Jaime and Brienne finally emerged to celebrate.

They saw Davos and Selwyn in an animated conversation, most likely about the fishing this season. Addam and Pia were sharing a table with Tyrion and Shae. The two couples had taken off work to support their friends, much to the annoyance of Tywin Lannister. Podrick – who had quit Le Lion D’or to pursue his own culinary dreams – was drinking merrily with Loras and Renly, while Sansa and Margaery cuddled nearby.

Various reporters were photographing the place or scribbling into notebooks while eating something. Most tried to appear neutral, but the congenial atmosphere and delicious food had many smiling.

“Let’s actually enjoy the fruit of our labor,” Jaime whispered to Brienne. He set a cake stand on the table in front of them, while she returned the favor with two forks.

The two happily dug into the cake, not even bothering to cut it.

Brienne glanced at the man she loved, who had custard on the side of his mouth. She wiped it away with her thumb and a kiss, heart swelling with affection and contentment.

 _I could do this every day of my life_ , she thought, knowing Jaime felt exactly the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A year ago I would have never thought I would be writing again. Thank you to every single person who read this. I want to extend a special thank you to lewispanda.
> 
> This won't be the last multi-chapter JB fic for me. I will be working on two new fics that I'm very excited about: Jaime and Brienne Make a Porno and Good Game. I plan on taking a short break and getting started soon.
> 
> Le Fraisier recipe  
> [https://www.bakefromscratch.com/le-fraisier-french-strawberry-cake/](https://www.bakefromscratch.com/le-fraisier-french-strawberry-cake/)
> 
> Mise en Place Graphics  
> [Chef Jaime mood board](https://bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com/post/189331058043/mise-en-place-brienne-everything-in-its-place)  
> [Le Lion D'or menu](https://bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com/post/190520059723/a-restaurant-can-be-thought-of-as-a-car-each-part)  
> [Chef Braime](https://ayofandomthings.tumblr.com/post/187218148758/chefs-au-braime-edition-commission-i-did-loved)  
> [Brienne and Jaime eating cake](https://twitter.com/bookbrienne/status/1200307877119852544?s=20)
> 
> [ I'm on Tumblr. ](https://www.bussdowntarthiana.tumblr.com)


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